


Give Me a Reason

by Droewyn



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: A+++ Channel Moderation, Agony Aunt Yuuri, Always, Angst Before the Angst, Anxiety, BECAUSE I AM SO NOT CHANGING HER NAME HALFWAY THROUGH THE FIC, Background OC's - Freeform, But They're There for Color, Chatting & Messaging, Chris and Phichit Flirt-Off Invitational, Chris is a good friend, Depression, Detroit days, Discussions of Suicide, Drinking, Excessive Drinking, Fluff, I Plotted This Instead of Sleeping, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, Nobody Dies, OUTLINE WHAT OUTLINE, OVERWATCH WAS NOT OUT IN 2012, Phichit Has Heard of Subtlety But Wants Nothing To Do With It, SO I GUESS THIS IS ALSO AN EARLY OVERWATCH AU YOU'RE WELCOME, Shoot I Almost Forgot the Most Important Tag, Someone Buy Socks A Cookie, Strangers to Internet Friends to Holy Shit It's You, Suicide Attempt, Sweetheart Victor, THIS IS TERRIBLE SELF CARE WHAT AM I DOING WRITING THIS, Victor Always Uses Proper English Grammar and Punctuation, Victor Has a Mean Streak, WAIT I JUST REALIZED, WHERE WE'RE GOING WE DON'T NEED OUTLINES, You Don't Have to Care About Them If You Don't Want, Yuuri is Better at Giving Advice Than Taking It
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-31
Updated: 2017-12-14
Packaged: 2018-12-22 06:00:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 16,718
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11961189
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Droewyn/pseuds/Droewyn
Summary: Your typical boy-meets-boy-in-an-anonymous-internet-chatroom-and-doesn't-realize-it's-Victor-Fucking-Nikiforov-for-literal-years story.The format is based on phlintandsteel's fabulous sweetsilversub, only mine is about mental illness and not loving, consensual, healthy BDSM because I am a cheerful motherfucker and she already did it the best anyway.Please read the tags and mind your triggers.  Shit goes pear-shaped in Chapter48910???  Maybe???  I DON'T EVEN KNOW ANYMORE ASK PHICHIT.





	1. June 2012

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Sweetsilversub](https://archiveofourown.org/works/9818900) by [phlintandsteel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/phlintandsteel/pseuds/phlintandsteel). 

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Victor joins #therapycouchfort.

 

_lukewarm_mess: one of my roommate’s hamsters is pregnant_

_lukewarm_mess: and i want to see the babies_

_KingElsa: Wait… that’s a reason?_

_Deltatangofoxtrot: DANGER!!!  ABORT!!!_

_iamworthy: *starts making popcorn*_

_KingElsa: ???_

_KingElsa: I just…_

_KingElsa: Shouldn’t your reason to stay alive be something super meaningful?_

_mercyslovechild: now uv done it_

_iamworthy: NEW KID INITIATION TIME GATHER ROUND CHILDREN_

_iamworthy: *dusts off mess’s soapbox*_

_mercyslovechild: gathers_

_lukewarm_mess: hush you_

_suicideflirtsback: *gathers*_

_Deltattangofoxtrot: Sorry but were you not going to give THE SPEECH??  Also *gathers*_

 

Yuuri chuckled, smothering a silly urge to bury his face in his hands.  It would only smudge his glasses, and he was already safely hidden behind a screen and a username, anyway.

“Share the funny,” Phichit demanded.  True to form, while they’d started the movie on opposite ends of the couch, he had somehow managed to migrate across two and a half cushions and into his favorite cuddle position in the crook of Yuuri’s arm, all without ever visibly moving.  As far as mutant powers went, Yuuri supposed that it was fairly benign.  No self-respecting supervillain was going to go out of their way to form an archnemesisship with someone like Snuggle Ninja, after all.

_lukewarm_mess: well.  i mean, yes but_

 

“Apparently I’ve become known for Reason Theory enough to get teased about it,” Yuuri replied.  He kept typing.

 

_lukewarm_mess: it’s not like i own it or anything_

_lukewarm_mess: i didn’t even come up with it, i think i first read it on tumblr_

 

Phichit squeezed his knee affectionately.  “I can see why,” he said.  “It’s become a really important coping strategy for you.”

 

_iamworthy: You brought it into this chat first and are super passionate about it, it’s yours_

_mercyslovechild: just like if u liked it_

_mercyslovechild: *licked_

_KingElsa: Am I going to get schooled now?_

_KingElsa: Teach me, O wise master!_

_KingElsa: m(_ _)m_

“That’s your newbie?”  Phichit was peering at the laptop screen.  “Bowing before your magnificence already; I approve.  You have my blessing to marry this man.”

Yuuri snorted.  “Along with half the track team, Micah and Darius from gender studies, and the waitress at Grand Trunk.”

“She never charges us for sodas, Yuuri!”

 

_lukewarm_mess: okay if we’re doing this let’s do this_

_lukewarm_mess: *climbs on soap box and grabs a_

_lukewarm_mess: um.  english word for thing that makes your voice louder when you talk into it?_

_iamworthy: microphone?_

_suicideflirtsback: bullhorn_

_lukewarm_mess: that’s it thx_

_lukewarm_mess: *climbs on soapbox and grabs a bullhorn*_

_KingElsa: *awaits enlightenment*_

 

As far as Yuuri knew, Reason Theory wasn’t officially a part of any formal course of therapy.  It was reliant on the notion that, since suicide was a fundamentally selfish act, the motivation behind _not_ killing oneself needed to be equally selfish.  It also needed to be concrete and easily attainable.  The tumblr poster had argued that not only was wanting to know how Game of Thrones ended just as valid as staying alive for the sake of a loved one or child, but it could be far more effective because it was easier to commit to and wasn't in itself a stressor.  The TV show couldn’t care who watched it, after all, and would never be let down by a viewer’s failure to view. 

_lukewarm_mess: my brain makes me think that my friends and family would be better off without me all the time_

_lukewarm_mess: but baby hamsters are value neutral.  i want to be here to see them because *i* want to see them.  not because i have to or should. there’s no responsibility there so i don’t have guilt on top of everything else. i can’t speak for everyone but shoulds are really destructive for me_

_Deltatangofoxtrot: me to_

_KingElsa: That… makes a lot of sense, actually…_

_lukewarm_mess: you can have a different reason every day because one is all you need_

_lukewarm_mess: just to get to next month. or next week.  or tomorrow_

_KingElsa: It’s supposed to be nice this weekend.  I’m thinking about taking my dog to the beach._

_iamworthy: There you go, something to look forward to_

_lukewarm_mess: and it’s not just for bad days either_

_lukewarm_mess: like i’ve been pretty good lately btween meds and therapy but_

_lukewarm_mess: if i already have a reason in my mind i don’t have to try to think of one when things get hard and my brain is fighting me_

_lukewarm_mess: so try to get in the habit of always having one if you can_

_lukewarm_mess: okay, lesson over_

_KingElsa:_ _That was amazing!  Thank you!_

_KingElsa: *applauds and throws roses*_

_lukewarm_mess:_ (⁄ ⁄>⁄ ▽ ⁄<⁄ ⁄)

_suicideflirtsback: speaking of reasons, I tried this green tea & lemon candy ice cream the other day_

_suicideflirtsback: no joke it made me whole_

_mercyslovechild: that sounds gross tbh_

_lukewarm_mess: green tea ice cream is so good! i don’t know about lemon candy in it though?? like, lemon drops??_

_KingElsa: Seriously, though.  I really appreciate this.  You’ve given me a lot to think about._

_suicideflirtsback: no, more like… you know the filling in those lemon girl scout cookies?  like that, only the consistency is more like white chocolate_

_lukewarm_mess: any time, king._ ( ´ ▽ ` )

_KingElsa has left the chat._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel really guilty about writing this while Intervention is still on hiatus and the underlying problem has not been dealt with. I don't actually remember most of yesterday; it was a series of breakdowns both major and minor, starting with a panic attack in my dream (!) and ending with a meltdown and a very large, totally inadvisable Bloody Mary. Sometime around 1AM while I was desperately trying to fall asleep, I came up with this. And, of course, it won't go away. Writing it is probably a terrible idea. I'mma do it anyway.
> 
> Also, did you know that fanfic depicting systemic oppression in which a character is unwillingly forced into a specific societal role can be a trigger? WELL I DO NOW. Guess I'll be avoiding certain A/B/O fics for the forseeable future.
> 
> Today getting this story out is my reason. Thank you for reading it. I love you and I'll see you tomorrow.


	2. December 2012

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two updates in as many days and the word count is actually decent (over 1000) -- go me!
> 
> I've been revising my (loose) outline, and I've decided to expand my original plan to roughly two scenes per year in order to leave lots of room for fluff and character development. I intend to alternate POV between Yuuri and Victor. This also means that shit will go pear-shaped in chapter 8 now, so schedule accordingly.
> 
> Descriptive text will likely continue to be minimal, as most of the interaction should and will take place in the chat itself.

Makkachin was panting with happiness and exertion, although she waited patiently for Victor to remove the leash and towel the remaining snow off her legs before bounding into the flat and making a beeline for the water bowl.  Victor smiled fondly as the poodle attacked the water, lapping at it with the same enthusiasm she had for everything else in her world.

He wasted no time in hanging up his coat and kicking off his boots into the drying tray by the door, knowing that he had a bare few minutes before Makka started whining for dinner.  Victor’s own meals during the competition season tended to be pre-packaged, perfectly balanced things that went from the freezer to the microwave to his stomach without concerning themselves with such trifles as flavor or texture along the way, but princesses were never meant to live like that.

“Tonight’s supper is rabbit florentine,” he informed her with the air of a maître d’ reciting the day’s specials.  Makka wagged her tail and looked fascinated.  The spinach wasn’t actually fresh, but had been run through a juicer, along with a few other vegetables that provided necessary vitamins for an older dog’s digestive health.  It looked like swamp muck, but then so did Victor’s protein shakes, so he supposed he couldn’t judge the stuff too harshly.  He spooned two large dollops into her bowl, noting that he’d need to make another batch soon. 

The rabbit was just that; half a rabbit, raw, cut into chunks with the bones intact.  Then came a series of supplement powders, some from the vitamin cupboard and some from the fridge, containing live cultures of healthy bacteria that needed the cold to keep them alive.  A raw egg was next, and then the entire thing was crowned with a generous drizzle of fish oil for omega-3s and coat shine.

After a quick toss to ensure that everything was evenly coated with egg, oil, and vitamin powder, Victor set the bowl on the floor.  Makkachin pounced on it almost before he could get his hands out of the way, and the kitchen was filled with the sounds of happy whines and crunching.

Ten minutes later, the bowl was licked clean of even the tiniest scrap of oil, and Victor’s own dinner had been nuked and consumed.  He assumed it had been chicken, being far too rubbery for fish.

Cleanup was quick, and Makka knew Victor’s routine well.  She was already on the couch by the time the plastic meal tray had been disposed of, and dog dish and flatware filed away into the dishwasher.  Victor curled up next to her on the sofa, burying his fingers in the warmth of her fur, closed his eyes, and allowed himself to just _be_ for the first time that day.

Several long moments later, he reached for his laptop.

 

_* Joined channel #therapycouchfort_

_* Topic is ‘Remember to get secret santa gifts in the mail no later than FRIDAY for domestic shipping’_

_* Set by SockPuppet on Dec 10 7:27:41 2012_

_mercyslovechild: and emmett knew which is y he left evrything to jerrica_

_lukewarm_mess: okay, but what about shana and aja?_

_mercyslovechild: dude hated one kid for not being his so much he didnt evn mention her in his will u think he cares abt fosters_

_KingElsa: Evening, everyone!_

_Small_Monster: hey king_

_iamworthy: *wave*_

_lukewarm_mess: king, tell mercy that kimber benton did not kill her own father_

_mercyslovechild: eric raymond is kimbers father hate to break it to u like dis luke_

_mercyslovechild: also hi king_

_KingElsa: … I’m sorry.  What are we talking about?_

_mercyslovechild: jem_

_KingElsa: ?_

_lukewarm_mess: and the holograms?_

_KingElsa: ???_

_lukewarm_mess: gasp.gif_

_lukewarm_mess: go_

_lukewarm_mess: netflix it_

_lukewarm_mess: right now we’ll wait_

_mercyslovechild: not the movie tho the cartoon_

_lukewarm_mess: oh, right.  good call that movie was garbage_

_Small_Monster: It was good when it was called Josie and the Pussycats_

 

He tabbed over to Google and did a quick search.  The resulting wiki page was… very pink.  Secret identity pop stars who traveled the world and had unlikely adventures?  It looked ridiculous, but in a fun way.

 

_KingElsa: Maybe later.  Thanks for the tip, though!_

_KingElsa: More importantly, what are you doing here, Mess?  You’re never on at this time of day during the week._

_lukewarm_mess: grr_

_lukewarm_mess: i sprained my ankle_

_lukewarm_mess: so i’m not allowed to work for at least a week, longer if the PT doesn’t clear me right away_

_iamworthy: Sounds like your work is physically intensive?_

_lukewarm_mess: yeah_

_lukewarm_mess: we’re in the middle of our busy season too_

_KingElsa: Things should lighten up after the holidays, though, right?_

_lukewarm_mess: not in my industry_

_KingElsa: What do you do?_

_Small_Monster: he works for the CIA_

_KingElsa: What, really?!  O.O_

_lukewarm_mess: NO_

_lukewarm_mess: sorry i_

_lukewarm_mess: just don’t feel comfortable giving out personal details like that_

_Small_Monster: you know it’s not like anyone can track you down if you tell us you work in sales or IT or smthing_

_KingElsa: It’s okay, Mess.  I shouldn’t have asked._

_SockPuppet: Yellow card, Monster.  5 yard penalty for unnecessary roughness.  Do it again and get a 1 day temp ban._

_lukewarm_mess: nono it’s fine to ask anything, just respect when i can’t answer_

_Small_Monster: sry my bad_

_lukewarm_mess: np monster_

_KingElsa: Of course!_

_KingElsa: At least it sounds like your boss cares about your welfare, though?_

_lukewarm_mess: oh yeah_

_lukewarm_mess: i have the best boss_

_lukewarm_mess: i just usually dance out stress_

_lukewarm_mess: and i obvs can’t do that either rn_

_KingElsa: G A S P_

_lukewarm_mess: so i’m stuck sitting around feeling sorry for myself_

_KingElsa: You dance?_

_KingElsa: Formally? What discipline?_

 

Was it wrong to try to imagine someone when you had no physical reference for them at all?  Victor knew that the other user identified as male and attended college somewhere in the States, but that was pretty much it.  And now he knew that Mess danced.  Maybe he was a redhead, small and lithe, with pale, freckle-dusted shoulders and cornflower eyes.  Or a blond, perhaps; tanned and powerful but with a sweet, sweet smile.  African-American, with long lashes framing shy eyes in a brown face?

 _I am definitely going to internet chatroom hell,_ Victor thought, and wondered what color that card was.

 

_mercyslovechild: ths is relevnt to my intrests as well_

_lukewarm_mess:_ _(⁄ ⁄•⁄ω⁄•⁄ ⁄)_

_iamworthy: Please say morris_

_lukewarm_mess: haha, only the one time_

_lukewarm_mess: yes we were drunk, no there is no surviving evidence_

_iamworthy: Well obvs, if you’re not completely pissed you’re doing morris dancing wrong_

_lukewarm_mess: i stole p’s phone and made sure of it_

_SockPuppet: Are you okay with this, mess?  Say the word and I’ll hand out more warnings._

_lukewarm_mess: its fine i’m fine_

_lukewarm_mess: ballet since i was three_

_mercyslovechild: BALLERINA MESS <3 <3 <3_

_lukewarm_mess: ballroom, jazz, latin, freestyle, swing_

_iamworthy: It’s danseur for boys_

_KingElsa: WOW!  AMAZING! *swoon*_

_iamworthy: *is super impressed*_

_lukewarm_mess: some other stuff too_

_lukewarm_mess: dance is one of my majors so_

_Small_Monster: do u dance professionally_

_Small_Monster: ?_

_SockPuppet: Careful._

_lukewarm_mess: no, and i really don’t intend to_

_lukewarm_mess: my dancing is just for me_

_Small_Monster: so whats your other major then_

_lukewarm_mess: moving makes me happy_

_* Small_Monster Quit (Quit: Kicked by SockPuppet)_

_lukewarm_mess: anyway that’s why i’m so off balance now_

_lukewarm_mess: i can’t do what i normally do to clear my head_

_SockPuppet: *points two fingers at her eyes and one finger at y’all*_

_SockPuppet: *except mess because mess never does anything wrong*_

_mercyslovechild: mods pet_

_mercyslovechild: jk ilu_

_KingElsa: Is there anything I can do to help, Mess?_

_KingElsa: I mean, you’re home alone, right?  Your roommate is at work?_

_lukewarm_mess: not really but thx_

_lukewarm_mess: yeah but it’s not like_

_lukewarm_mess: i’m not a danger or anything_ _┐(‘_ _～_ _` )┌_

_lukewarm_mess: just crabby and bored_

_KingElsa: I just wish you didn’t have to be alone ; ;_

_lukewarm_mess: …_

_lukewarm_mess: …_

_lukewarm_mess: watch jem with me?_

_lukewarm_mess: i mean, if you’re not busy or anything_

_KingElsa: !!  Mess is a genius!_

_KingElsa: Wait, how would that work?_

_iamworthy: Probably go set up your own temporary channel, lock it with a password if you don’t want trolls bots or randos, and coordinate netflix so you start at the same time_

_mercyslovechild: can i join_

_mercyslovechild: or is it like a date thing_

_KingElsa: Of course!  The more the merrier o~_

_lukewarm_mess: if you behave_

_lukewarm_mess: no crackpot conspiracy theories interrupting my musical adventuromance_

_mercyslovechild: how about I keep it to the credits_

_lukewarm_mess: …fine_

_KingElsa: Great!  I’ll go set things up.  And make some popcorn!  Meet back in 15?_

_mercyslovechild: k_

_lukewarm_mess: sounds good_

_lukewarm_mess: king?_

_KingElsa: Mess?_

_lukewarm_mess: thanks_

_KingElsa: Any time, Mess. <3_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Victor feeding Makka scene was jointly inspired by my mother and ex-girlfriend. The ex used to read the labels of Fancy Feast cans to my cats in order to, I don't know, build their anticipation or something? And I recreated the meals my mom used to make for her dog as well as I could from memory (ETA: removed mention of garlic), only with rabbit instead of chicken because it's more Extra. It's called the "Raw Diet", it's supposed to mimic what a wild dog or cat would eat in nature (the veggies and acids would be in the intestines and stomach!), and is either The Only Thing That Ethical Pet Owners Should Feed Their Babies Like Ever or Dangerous Animal Abuse That Is Going To Kill Your Dog And Probably Kickstart The Next Black Plague And/Or WWIII. I do not have a horse (or a dog) in this race as I feed my cats Science Diet, but for what it's worth Mom's Callie lived to 16, so... *shrug* I suggest you talk to your vet and do your own research if you want to go that route. I just thought that OF COURSE Victor would spend twenty minutes preparing food for Makka every day (twice a day? I don't remember how often Callie got fed) while basically just dumping Soylent down his own throat.
> 
> So iamworthy is apparently English. I'm as surprised as anyone. 
> 
> And Small_Monster is kind of an asshole! Which I TOTALLY didn't plan, given that I (sort of) named her after one of my cats. Sorry, Vienna! <3
> 
> Finally, mercyslovechild's headcanons are her own and do not reflect the hcs of the author, the Organization for Transformative Works, or humanity in general. Probably. I mean, I wouldn't be SURPRISED if there's a 3GB pdf of "evidence" for Kimber Benton murdering Emmett Benton after finding out that she's actually the illegitimate daughter of Eric Raymond, but I totally pulled that out of my ass.
> 
> (If such a thing actually exists, I really don't need to know about it kthx)
> 
> Today my reason is wanting to see how Persona 5 turns out. Love you!


	3. March 2013

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yuuri and Victor are both lying liars who lie. Unsurprisingly, Victor is better at it. Also, Phichit has a screen name now!

Celestino insisted on carrying the majority of Yuuri and Phichit’s luggage up the stairs to their apartment.  “You’ve earned it, boys,” he told them.  “I’m so proud of you both.”

Yuuri frowned.  He didn’t want to directly contradict his coach, and it was always awkward feeling bad about his own performance when Phichit hadn’t even made it past the short program, but fifteenth place was _not_ what he’d worked so hard for all season.

Celestino was having none of it.  “Did you skate your best?” he demanded.  Yuuri muttered a grudging affirmative.

“What was that, Yuuri?  I didn’t quite catch what you said.”  Yuuri had hoped that Phichit would be fully engrossed with his hamsters by now, having made a beeline for their habitat the instant the door was unlocked.  Apparently the universe wasn’t about to let him get that lucky.

He sighed heavily.  “Yeah.  I skated my best.”  Maybe if he played along, they’d drop the subject.  There was nothing else to do if they were determined to gang up on him, anyway.

“And did you improve on last year’s performance?”

“Yes.”  Last year it had been Yuuri who had missed being in the top twenty-five.  Phichit hadn’t even qualified for Worlds in 2012, ending his own season after a disappointing 4CC.

Celestino beamed as though that made it all better.  “And that is why I am proud of you, and why you should be proud of yourself.  Keep training as hard as you have been, and next season you’ll be in the top ten for sure.”

“And in the meantime,” Phichit added, “It’s time to start the post-season off right with the ritual Eating of the Carbs.  I’m thinking Pizza Papalis?”

Yuuri shot him a halfhearted glare.  “Your Nationals are still coming up,” he pointed out, but there was little actual heat in his voice.  It wasn’t Phichit’s fault that his ‘freshman fifteen’ had been the opposite of most students’, resulting in a good third of his class plying their ‘precious hamster son’ with varying foodstuffs to ‘keep his strength up’.

“I’ll be good after tonight!”

“You could at least blush when you lie through your teeth like that.”  Yuuri rolled his eyes.  “Fine.  Spinach and mushroom, extra garlic, you’re paying, _and_ you’re handling all of the human interaction.”

Celestino laughed.  “I am not hearing any of this.  Celebrate well, boys.  Ciao ciao!”  He let himself out amid Phichit’s whoop of joy and subsequent call to the pizza place.

Yuuri curled up on the couch and opened his laptop.  For once he wasn’t jetlagged after a competition, this year’s championship having been held a bare two hours’ drive away, in Ontario.  He was still _tired_ – a week’s worth of too little sleep while dealing with far too many strangers was stressful enough even without the pressure of competition – but he wasn’t _sleepy_.  It was an odd, but not unwelcome, feeling.

_*Bad channel key for #therapycouchfort_

 

He blinked.  He’d opened the chat client on autopilot, not really intending to socialize even to the extent of text on a screen, but this was an error message he’d never seen before.

 

_/msg SockPuppet what’s a channel key and why is it bad?_

_*SockPuppet: no such nick/channel_

_/msg KingElsa hey do you know what’s going on with the chat_

_KingElsa >> Mess! <3 <3 <3_

_KingElsa >> They had to password-lock the channel.  I guess there was an invasion of trolls?_

_KingElsa >> Password is “nuclearoption” with no quotes._

_/join #therapycouchfort nuclearoption_

_* Joined channel #therapycouchfort_

_* Topic is ‘If you haven’t gotten the new channel password from one of the mods, msg us asap.  Lockdown goes into effect Thursday night.  Thanks for your patience in the meantime.’_

_* Set by StevenMultiverse on Mar 12 12:04:17 2013_

_lukewarm_mess: i can’t leave you guys for five minutes, can i_

_lukewarm_mess: thanks for the pw king_

_KingElsa:_ _♡_ _＼_ _(_ _￣▽￣_ _)_ _／_ _♡_

_mercyslovechild: nope u go away and evrything goes to shit_

_suicideflirtsback: wait does that mean mess is the reason we can’t have nice things?_

_mercyslovechild: pls dont abandon us again_

_StandardDeviation: you wish flirt_

_StandardDeviation: wb mess how was the business conf_

_lukewarm_mess: very business much industry so productivity wow_

_suicideflirtsback: have you leveled up your synergy or whatever?_

_lukewarm_mess: my boss seems to think so but.._

_KingElsa: Your boss is obviously full of wisdom and good judgment and you should listen to them._

_lukewarm_mess: my boss let Peaches eat himself sick on maple candy that we can totally get at home but apparently it’s different because it’s travel candy, whatever that means_

_mercyslovechild: i thouht peaches was a babby_

_mercyslovechild: babbies get to travel for work?_

_lukewarm_mess: he’s an intern so i guess?  idk_

 

“I’m a _what_?” Phichit shrieked from directly behind Yuuri, who winced at the sound.

“Quit reading over my shoulder; that’s why I made you get your own account.  Oh, there’s a password to get in now.  Nuclear option, one word, all lower case.”

“Thailand’s Prince, the Jewel of Bangkok, an _intern_?  Yuuri, how could you?”  He flopped dramatically over the back of the couch.

“Shut up, I panicked.”

 

_lukewarm_mess: anyway why the lockdown?_

_lukewarm_mess: king you said something about trolls?_

_*Peaches_and_Dream has joined #therapycouchfort_

_KingElsa: I wasn’t here either, actually, but that’s what I heard.  Hi Mess’ roommate._

_suicideflirtsback: we were invaded by scientologists_

_Peaches_and_Dream: Hello mess’ self-friendzoning internet boyfriend_

_mercyslovechild: woa sickburn.gif_

_StandardDeviation: or at least people claiming to be scientologists_

_lukewarm_mess: PEACH_

_KingElsa: GASP_

_StandardDeviation: like two dozen_ _of them flooding the channel at once_

 _Peaches_and_Dream: I notice you’re not denying it_ _☆⌒_ _ヽ_ _(*'_ _､_ _^*)chu_

“Shut it, Intern Boy.”

 

_StandardDeviation: all telling us to stop taking our brainwashing pills and read dianetics_

_suicideflirtsback: p sure they were on vpns because even with the mods ip banning them they just kept coming back_

“Still waiting for a denial, Yuu-chan!  Other than the one _you’re_ in, I mean.”

_Peaches_and_Dream: Sounds more like bored channers to me_

_mercyslovechild: whatevs it was annoying_

_suicideflirtsback: you mean EPIC_

_suicideflirtsback: socks just about developed superpowers out of sheer rage_

_StandardDeviation: after two days the mods decided to make the channel private, and we’ve been lockedin our fallout shelter eating k-rations ever since_

_KingElsa: Wow, it seems it was an exciting week!_

_StevenMultiverse: It’s not a perfect solution because it means new people who might actually want to join the chat can’t, but there’s not much else we can do at the moment._

_mercyslovechild: where where you king?_

_StevenMultiverse: In a month or two we’ll try and reopen the channel.  Hopefully they’ll have gone away by then._

_lukewarm_mess: works for me, glad you found a solution_

_KingElsa: I went to a family reunion._

_suicideflirtsback: good times?_

_KingElsa: I suppose.  It was… typical._

_lukewarm_mess: how so_

_KingElsa: I don’t know.  The same faces, the same stories, never any surprises.  Lousy food at the big dinner party._

_mercyslovechild: potluck >:P_

_KingElsa: Catered._ _But still not good._

_suicideflirtsback: did you have to be nice to Racist Uncle Tony?_

_KingElsa: (°_ _ロ_ _°) !  How did you know?!  I mean, he was neither a Tony nor my uncle, but…._

_suicideflirtsback: EVERYONE has a Racist Uncle Tony_

_*Deltatangofoxtrot has joined #therapycouchfort_

_KingElsa: “I’m just concerned about the way your *lifestyle*” – he actually made air quotes with his fingers! – “reflects on us…”_

_Peaches_and_Dream: Ugh, sorry King._

_lukewarm_mess:_ _((_ _╬_ _◣_ _﹏_ _◢_ _))_

_mercyslovechild: homophobic uncle tony ><_

_suicideflirtsback: always the highlight of fam functions_

_suicideflirtsback: hey fox_

_StevenMultiverse: hi fox_

_Peaches_and_Dream: Hi Tango_

_KingElsa: Hello, DTF._

_StandardDeviation: Did you just_

_StandardDeviation: *facepalms*_

_Deltatangofoxtrot: RDY ANYTIME BAE_ ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

_mercyslovechild: passes out protection_

_Peaches_and_Dream: Why sir, I hardly know you! *flutters fan*_

_KingElsa: …_

_suicideflirtsback: *is ace*_

_StevenMultiverse: *is married*_

_KingElsa: …………_

_lukewarm_mess: at least take me out to dinner first_

_KingElsa: !_

_KingElsa: Et tu, Mess???_

_lukewarm_mess: you’ve been here how long and you still walked into that??_

_lukewarm_mess: sorry no sympathy, you deserved it_

_KingElsa:_ 。゜゜(´Ｏ`) ゜゜。

_KingElsa: I’m ESL?_

_lukewarm_mess: no excuse, so am i_

_lukewarm_mess: it has to be somewhere nice, too.  i don’t put out for qdoba_

_StandardDeviation: Besides, that’s not english, it’s internet_

_StandardDeviation: *is helping*_

_KingElsa: Don’t help. >.>_

Headlights flashed through the window as a car pulled into the parking lot.  Yuuri glanced outside and saw the glowing pizza sign on the roof.  His shoulders hunched involuntarily.

“Go hide,” Phichit told him.  “I’ll bribe them to go away, that usually works.”

Yuuri smiled sheepishly before heading for their shared bedroom.  “Sorry,” he called through the closing door.  “It’s just—”

“—No more strangers for a while.  I know.  I’ll say our goodbyes in chat, too.  It’s BFF bonding time.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay. I was expecting to have some time to write over the long weekend, but ended up finishing Persona 5 instead, and started Nier Automata. And WOW I was expecting that game to string me along a bit before making me feel like history's greatest monster but noooooo less than an hour in and I'm already straight up murdering mommy robots who only want to rock their little scrap metal babies in little scrap metal bassinets. "They don't have emotions, they're only parroting something they heard somewhere." OF COURSE NOT THIS IS ALL GOING TO END IN TEARS AND THEY'RE ALL GOING TO BE MINE AREN'T THEY
> 
> Then yesterday I got 900+ words into The Great Xenu Invasion before I realized that it was awful and horrible and worked much better as a Noodle Incident instead. I basically had to scrap the entire thing. Also, I really wanted this to take place on March 15 because I am an enormous dork and I wanted to tie in the "Et tu" line to the actual Ides, but Worlds was in full swing on the 15th so boo.
> 
> As a bonus, I'll put an unformatted outtake from TGXI below, mostly because it's the one part I really liked.
> 
> I'd love to hear how the format is working for everyone. I'm going for a specifically IRC feel, with a few changes for readability. I'm also trying to authentically depict the way chats can get a bit trippy with multiple conversations going on at once and people interrupting one another, while ALSO maintaining clarity. Is it working? Does it make sense? Do the typos and abbreviations work, or are they as painfully manufactured as I feel like they are? I'm Internet!Old; I use complete sentences with proper punctuation even when texting, so yeah...
> 
> Thanks so much for reading, kudosing, and especially commenting. The response to this has been overwhelming and I'm so happy that everyone seems to be enjoying it. In fact, now that P5 is done... anticipating comments is my reason for tonight. :D Love you, and see you tomorrow!
> 
> *Peaches_and_Dream has joined #therapycouchfort  
> lukewarm_mess: this is still going on huh  
> mercyslovechild: A NEW CHALLENGER APPROCHES  
> KingElsa: We must gird our loins for battle!  
> chaoticgoodcop: *girds*  
> mercyslovechild: gird  
> iamworthy: Do you even know what that means, King?  
> lukewarm_mess: stand down everyone it’s my roommate >.>  
> Peaches_and_Dream: Hi everyone! (ﾉ´ヮ`)ﾉ*: ･ﾟ  
> KingElsa: It’s a method of folding a loincloth or long toga into historical booty shorts to prevent all that fabric from getting in the way during combat.  
> lukewarm_mess: i banned him from reading over my shoulder  
> KingElsa: So… yes. *stares at Iam*  
> lukewarm_mess: told him to get his own acct if he was going to use us as his own personal soap opera  
> iamworthy: fair enough. Hi Peaches  
> Peaches_and_Dream: You are doing battle against Scientologists, mess. SCIENTOLOGISTS  
> Peaches_and_Dream: I must bear witness to this epic event.  
> KingElsa: Hello Mess’ roommate. I’m sorry I thought you were evil.  
> lukewarm_mess: oh he’s totally evil  
> * Deltatangofoxtrot has joined #therapycouchfort  
> Peaches_and_Dream: !! YOU WOUND ME HOW DARE  
> lukewarm_mess: he’s just not part of the invasion. hey fox


	4. November 2013

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And sometimes the chat is actually used for its intended purpose... 
> 
> TW: Non-graphic mentions of self-harm.

The boy on the ice was new to the Grand Prix series, and it was clear that he wouldn’t be advancing to the final.  His triples were shaky and he wasn’t even attempting a quad.  Not that quads were required, Victor reminded himself.  Just last year he’d taken them out of his programs at Euros on a dare and had still won by a comfortable margin, purely on the strength of a clean skate and high PCS marks.  Yakov had been apoplectic, of course, and had forbidden him from pulling such a stunt at Worlds, but it had honestly been the most fun Victor had had at a competition in years.

The boy – Chulanont, from Thailand – was fun to watch, though.  He danced his program with a cheerfulness that was infectious, and he had the audience clapping along to the music within moments.  A popped triple axel and a two-footed landing on a triple-double combination didn’t seem to bother him in the slightest, though Victor knew he had to be disappointed.  But Chulanont’s spins were solid, and his steps…

 _Who does that step sequence remind me of_ , he wondered.  A flash of blue and silver teased at Victor’s memory, crowned with a mop of dark hair.  _Oh yes, that Japanese skater.  Yuuki something?  Yoshi?  I wonder if Chulanont is his fan._   It bothered him, a little, not to be able to remember the man’s name.  Victor had it written down somewhere in one of his notebooks – he still researched all of the skaters that he shared ice with, Yakov having drilled respect for his competitors into him at an early age – but he didn’t used to need the physical notes the way he did now.  When had the names and faces all started to blur?  _I really must be getting old,_ Victor thought gloomily.

Chulanont ended on a slide, his arms outstretched.  He was beaming as he took his bows, but his eyes gleamed in a way that almost made Victor smile.  _He’s determined.  Good.  He’ll take this experience and grow from it._

Victor zoned out during the scoring, already knowing how he’d be judged.  Chulanont had been the last to skate the short program, and he wasn’t close to challenging Georgi’s first place standing.  Georgi’s own skate had been the cleanest Victor had ever seen that program, and if he was able to carry that energy over into the free skate they’d be in the Final together for sure, Victor already having secured his own place with a pair of easy golds in Skate Canada and NHK.

Yakov found Victor still sitting in the stands as the crowd was thinning.  “You’re joining us for dinner?” the old coach rumbled.  It was barely a question.  Victor shook his head, and Yakov frowned.

“Tonight is Gosha’s, and if I go I’ll just draw attention away from him.”  He sighed with just the right amount of rueful, “what can you do?” disappointment in it.  “I’ll hide in my room and let him enjoy his well-earned spotlight.  Think of me when I’m scrounging scraps from vending machines?”

“Running up the room service bill outrageously, you mean.”  But Yakov’s face had softened into something like fondness.  “It’s true that the fans and the press tend to focus on you whether you skate or not,” he said finally, and Victor knew that he’d won.

 It wasn’t that Victor _didn’t_ want to give Georgi the opportunity to shine on his own – of course he did, Gosha had more than earned it – but the real truth was far more selfish.  If he went to dinner and someone recognized him — and in Moscow, during Rostelecom, the chances of that happening were pretty damn high — they weren’t just going to ignore Georgi.  They would want, no, _insist_ that he be Living Legend Victor Nikiforov for them, Russia’s Golden God, St. Petersburg’s Hope—

_—Victor the Oft Photoshopped, He Whose Shit Is Not Allowed to Stink, Whose Hair Is Discussed More Than His Skating, Subject of Seven Hundred RPF Smut Fics and Supposedly Beloved by All but Actually Having Only a Single (Admittedly Really Great) Dog to Love—_

—and he just didn’t want to be that mask.  Not tonight.  Not when he didn’t have to be.  _Victor the dancing monkey thinks that Victor the Living Legend is an asshole, and just for tonight the dancing monkey is on strike._

Yakov was probably right about the room service bill.

 

_* Joined channel #therapycouchfort_

_* Topic is ‘Tomb Raider: Best portrayal of PTSD in a video game ever, or ONLY portrayal of PTSD in a video game ever?  Discuss.’_

_* Set by StevenMultiverse on Nov 21 19:11:58 2013_

_suicideflirtsback: holy shit mercy are you okay_

_iamworthy: *hugs*_

_mercyslovechild: im ok_

_mercyslovechild: i guess_

_KingElsa: What happened?_

_mercyslovechild: its just_

_lukewarm_mess: mercy’s parents got CPS called on them_

_KingElsa: ?_

_mercyslovechild: i tried to tell them once bfore and they blew me off_

_iamworthy: Child Protective Services, King._

_mercyslovechild: they asked if i cut an it was like they stoppd listenning after i said no_

_/msg lukewarm_mess I don’t understand._

_/msg lukewarm_mess Did Mercy’s parents hurt her?_

_mercyslovechild: now there all sad and ilu and what can we do to help_

_*lukewarm_mess >> no but she hurts herself and a teacher noticed she was hiding bruises_

_mercyslovechild: i hate it_

_iamworthy: At least you’re into therapy now though, right?_

_/msg lukewarm_mess !!!_

_mercyslovechild: like, u cant be bothered to give a rats ass until someone else thinks your a bad parent_

_mercyslovechild: yea but_

_mercyslovechild: they keep asking if im bullied at school or have bad relationshisp and i dont_

_mercyslovechild: theres no reason for me to feel this way_

_mercyslovechild: im just fuckn broken_

_KingElsa: Mercy.  You are not broken._

_suicideflirtsback: ^^^^^^^^_

_iamworthy: *hugs mercy tight* What King said._

_mercyslovechild: yes i am_

_KingElsa: Am I broken?  Is Iam?  Is Mess?  Is Socks?_

_mercyslovechild: no_

_lukewarm_mess: so what if you are?_

_mercyslovechild: but_

_suicideflirtsback: holy shit mess that’s cold_

_mercyslovechild: u all have real problems and real illnesses w like diagnoces n stuff that u need help for_

_lukewarm_mess: broken DOESN’T mean garbage_

_KingElsa: I don’t._

_mercyslovechild: im just some stupid kid crying over nothing_

_lukewarm_mess:[https://www.google.com/search?q=kintsugi&source=lnms&tbm=isch&sa=X&ved=0ahUKEwjz6PXqzJvWAhVj3IMKHbLMBhsQ_AUICigB&biw=1094&bih=626](https://www.google.com/search?q=kintsugi&source=lnms&tbm=isch&sa=X&ved=0ahUKEwjz6PXqzJvWAhVj3IMKHbLMBhsQ_AUICigB&biw=1094&bih=626)_

_lukewarm_mess: we fix broken things_

_lukewarm_mess: we glue them together with gold so everyone can see the scars_

_KingElsa: I don’t have a diagnosis._

_lukewarm_mess: they’re stronger and more beautiful after_

_lukewarm_mess: more valuable_

_lukewarm_mess: and more worthy of love_

_iamworthy: King?_

_KingElsa: I’ve… never seen anyone._

_KingElsa: You’re the only people I’ve ever talked to about this kind of thing._

_*lukewarm_mess >> !_

_mercyslovechild: why_

_KingElsa: I don’t know, lots of reasons?_

_*lukewarm_mess >> you havent talked to anyone irl??_

_KingElsa: But they all kind of boil down to I’m scared._

_/msg lukewarm_mess I can’t… I’m under a ton of scrutiny at work…_

_/msg lukewarm_mess Lots of people hoping for the guy on the top to fall.  If I show weakness…_

_KingElsa: So if you’re broken what does that make me?  You’re at least trying to reach out for help._

_mercyslovechild: …_

_*lukewarm_mess >> family?  someone else you’re close to?_

_/msg lukewarm_mess Why Mess, trying to find out if I’m single?_

_*lukewarm_mess >> not funny_

_mercyslovechild: i_

_mercyslovechild: i think i like that pottery thing mess_

_mercyslovechild: i think i like it alot_

_/msg lukewarm_mess I am not on speaking terms with my family._

_lukewarm_mess: i’m glad, mercy <3_

_/msg lukewarm_mess For the rest…. I’m kind of married to my work._

_lukewarm_mess: we broken people have to stick together_

_*lukewarm_mess >> +1 313-XXX-XXXX_

_/msg lukewarm_mess ?!?_

_*lukewarm_mess >> okay i HATE talking on the phone_

_*lukewarm_mess >> it’s one of my anxiety triggers_

_*lukewarm_mess >> but_

_*lukewarm_mess >> you could text me sometime?  if you want to?_

_*lukewarm_mess >> and maybe if it’s an emergency you could call_

_*lukewarm_mess >> if there’s really nobody else_

_/msg lukewarm_mess I_

_/msg lukewarm_mess Wow_

_/msg lukewarm_mess You trust me that much?_

_*_ _lukewarm_mess >> i just want to know you have someone to reach out to_

_/msg lukewarm_mess_ _(_ _•̩̩̩́ ᴗ •̩̩̩̀_ _)_

_/msg lukewarm_mess Thank you.  I don’t know what else to say._

_*lukewarm_mess >> say you’ll use it if you need to_

_/msg lukewarm_mess I will.  I promise._

_mercyslovechild: yea i guess we do ^^_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PLEASE ENJOY THIS SNEAK PEEK INTO MY LIFE, COPIED FROM FACEBOOK:
> 
> Mom, Thursday: We're being evacuated. No big deal, it's just a precaution because we're on a breakwater island. It's going to go east after Miami anyway Aunt Kathie is visiting so it's all very exciting. We're going to stay with Diane (like 30 miles north and STILL ON THE COAST). She bought a huge inflatable thing to put around her house, it'll be great. I can't wait to see what it looks like. Your brother thinks we should go stay with him, isn't that silly?
> 
> Brother, Thursday (to me): I bet she'd go stay with [Mom's Michigan Friend] if SHE asked.
> 
> Mom, Friday: Diane's being evacuated now but we're gong to stay put.
> 
> Me, Friday: I feel like this is a terrible idea and you should go.
> 
> Brother, Friday (to me): Mom is doing this to spite us because she doesn't give a shit about her own family.
> 
> Irma, Friday: DUMBASSES ON THE WESTERN COAST? HMMMMMM.
> 
> Mom, Friday: We'll see what things look like tomorrow before we decide.
> 
> Florida's Governor, Friday: We gave you assholes plenty of warning. If you're still in the state by noon on Saturday, you're on your own.
> 
> News, Saturday Morning: IN A COMPLETELY UNFORESEEN TURN OF EVENTS HURRICANE IRMA HAS DECIDED TO TARGET FLORIDA'S GULF COAST. SHE REALLY SEEMS TO HAVE IT OUT FOR THE TAMPA AREA IN PARTICULAR. I'M SO SURPRISED ARE YOU SURPRISED I'M SURPRISED.
> 
> Me: {{ (>_<) }}
> 
>  
> 
> I HOPE YOU HAVE ENJOYED THAT SNEAK PEEK INTO MY LIFE. STAY TUNED FOR ME STAYING UP ALL NIGHT OBSESSIVELY REFRESHING WEATHER.COM. I LOVE YOU ALL, I HOPE YOU'RE ALL SAFE, AND TODAY'S REASON IS GETTING THE CHANCE TO SMACK MY MOM UPSIDE THE BACK OF HER HEAD FOR MAKING ME WORRY.
> 
> Edit for clarity: I'm fine, I live in Michigan. My brother also lives in Michigan. My mom lives near Clearwater Beach, FL.
> 
> MONDAY MORNING EDIT: Mom and step-dad and Aunt Kathie are currently fine but without power on the eastern coast of the state. Thanks for your kind words while I was worrying -- you all are the best! <3


	5. May 2014

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yuuri's had a rough few weeks, but Phichit is always there for him. So is KingElsa, even if they do misunderstand each other now and again.
> 
> Or,
> 
> "There isn't going to be much prose," she said. "The chapters are going to be short and sweet," she said.

“He’s not really my friend, you know,” Yuuri informed the Uber driver.  He had no idea how long they had been on the road, or how much longer they’d _be_ on the road, and the silence had finally gotten to him.  “This is actually a kidnapping.  Did you not notice the blindfold?”  It was actually a sleep mask, but the effect was the same.  Yuuri couldn’t see a thing.

“Lies!” Phichit gasped, swatting Yuuri on the shoulder.  “I am your _best_ friend.  Best possible friend.  There are no better friends than me in the entire world and you know it.”

“Did you see that?” he demanded.  “Now he’s using physical violence to subdue me.”

There was a dry laugh from the front seat.  “Yeah, dude.  I can tell you’re terrified.”

“I’m resigned to my fate,” Yuuri corrected primly.  “You notice he’s not even denying the kidnapping part.”

“I’m kidnapping you out of love, Yuuri.  It’s a _love abduction_.” 

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure that’s what serial killers say right before they—”  The car turned abruptly, and Yuuri fumbled for the oh-shit handle to keep himself upright.  Pavement gave way to gravel, and a moment later he felt the engine quiet as they slowed to a stop.

“We’re here!”

Having been forbidden to remove the blindfold until Phichit gave him permission to do so, Yuuri unbuckled his seat belt and opened the car door, but stayed where he was.  “I forgive you for not saving me,” he told the driver as Phichit paid for their ride.  “Please don’t blame yourself for my impending demise.”  Then there were hands on his, pulling him to his feet.

“Good luck with your… whatever,” the voice laughed, and the car started to pull away.

“My unquiet spirit totally won’t haunt you for eternity or anything, so don’t worry about it!” Yuuri shouted after the retreating vehicle.  Gripping Phichit’s hand tightly, he allowed himself to be led off the gravel and onto grass.  The sun was warm on his face, and the air was heady with spring flowers.

“You’re in a better mood today,” Phichit observed as they walked.

Yuuri shrugged.  “I guess,” he said.  “I mean, I’m still incredibly homesick, Victor Nikiforov still doesn’t know that I exist, I’m still going to have to take at least an extra semester of classes thanks to Professor Just-Because-You’re-An-Olympian-Doesn’t-Mean-You’re-Exempt-From-My-Attendance-Policy-You-Entitled-Millennial Goddamn Flint, and King probably still hates me.  But I had the spoons for basic hygiene this morning, so go me?”

The floral scent was getting stronger now.  Much stronger.  “You bantered with Uber Mike.  Having non-essential spoons to spend is good, right?”  Yuuri made a noncommittal noise, and Phichit sighed.  “Look, you were eighth at Worlds this year and tenth in the Olympics so the Victor thing is in progress, you’re going to camp out in front of the dean’s office until she agrees to review Flint’s bullshit decision, which she will since she isn’t an ageist old goat, and King absolutely does _not_ hate you.  In fact, he’s been PMing me so much that _I_ can’t keep up with his messages, and coming from me you know that’s saying something.  He’s worried, and more than a little afraid that _you_ hate _him_.”

Yuuri opened his mouth to protest, but was stopped by a finger on his lips.  “Later,” Phichit’s tone brooked no argument.  “First things first.”  Without further warning, the sleep mask was yanked from his face, and Yuuri found himself blinking against sudden brightness.

The world was a green and purple blur.  One of the blankets from their apartment was spread out on the grass, and on top of it sat a red and white plastic cooler.  Phichit handed him his glasses, and as he slid them into place, the fuzzy shapes around them resolved into an intimate little grove of lilac bushes.  The plants were in full bloom, branches nearly bowing under the weight of the flowers.  Yuuri gasped.  “ _Phichit_.”  His voice was an awed murmur.  “Is this...” he trailed off.

“It’s Michigan _hanami_!”  Phichit was beaming at Yuuri, delighted by his reaction.  “I couldn’t find any cherry blossoms, except for some little ornamental trees in people’s yards, but lilacs are basically everywhere.  Mackinac Island even has a lilac festival, but the hotels have been booked up for months and they’re really expensive and anyway, I didn’t think I could get you to put up with the blindfold for that long.”

“No, this is perfect.”   And it was.  If sakura blossoms were Japan – subtly sweet and graceful, with beauty in their very uniformity – then surely the bold lilac, with its powerful fragrance and infinite variations in size and color, had to be America. 

And best of all, they were completely alone.  Even in a small town like Hasetsu, _hanami_ would have them fighting for space, everyone’s blankets nearly overlapping in the struggle to fit everyone in for the sakura viewing.  It was fun, but loud and stressful as well.  Here, there was nothing to distract from the flowers, just the rustling of trees in the breeze interrupted by occasional birdsong.

No sooner had they slipped their shoes off and made themselves comfortable on the blanket than Phichit had the cooler open, pulling out treat after treat.  Mochi, onigiri, milk pudding, dango; each colored a delicate purple instead of the traditional cherry blossom pink.  “So this is what you’ve been doing with Ketty all week after practice.”  Yuuri admired a butter cookie and its decoration of sugared lilac blooms before taking a bite.  “It’s good,” he grinned.  “Different, but really good!”

“It was her idea to adapt the traditional recipes,” Phichit admitted.  “But we had to make sure I wasn’t going to poison us first.  Gods bless the internet.”

“I’ll drink to that.” The violet stuff in the clear plastic carafe turned out to be lemonade.  The lilac flavor worked oddly well against the sour citrus.

They made quick work of the festival sweets, and Phichit produced his Dominion cards with a flourish.  Yuuri pulled up his favorite “quiet time” playlist on his phone, and they listened to soft music as they played.  The two roommates were evenly matched and knew each other’s preferred strategies intimately, but managed to keep themselves from getting too competitive.  By the time the sun had turned golden and was starting to hang lower in the sky, Yuuri found himself lying on his back with his head in his friend’s lap, idly watching the clouds.

“Feeling better?”  Phichit was running his fingers through Yuuri’s hair.

He considered the question.  “Yeah,” he sighed finally.  “I think this is exactly what I needed.  Thanks, Phich.”

“Pay me back by helping me drill my triple axel.” 

“I’d do that anyway.”  Yuuri was warm and comfortable.  He was pleasantly full of wonderful food, he’d won their little Dominion tournament by a single match – and now didn’t have to do the dishes for three weeks – and Phichit’s fingernails on his scalp were halfway to lulling him to sleep.  There was only one thing keeping the day from being utterly perfect.

“Do you mind if I text King?”  Then he winced.  _Way to go, Katsuki.  Phichit plans an entire afternoon to cheer you up, and all you can think about is someone else._

But Phichit only nodded.  “I was hoping you would,” he said.  “Guilt/avoidance spirals aren’t a good look on anyone.”

 

*            *            *

 

Three days ago.

 

_Deltatangofoxtrot: then she dragged us out to applebee’s_

_StandardDeviation: Ew._

_Deltatangofoxtrot: ikr?  we’re in nola where like three different cuisines were fuckin invented and she wants to eat some crappy chain food we can get back home_

_KingElsa: That’s a crime against travel.  What’s the point in going places if you’re not going to sample the local specialties?_

_Deltatangofoxtrot: i mean i still proposed_

_lukewarm_mess: wait, what_

_Deltatangofoxtrot: we were already there and all_

_Deltatangofoxtrot: i figure i have our entire lives to teach her the right way to food and also tourist_

_KingElsa: !!!_

_StandardDeviation: Woah, grats man_

_lukewarm_mess: congratulations!_

_KingElsa:_ _♡_ _＼_ _(_ _￣_ _▽_ _￣_ _)_ _／_ _♡_

_Deltatangofoxtrot: ty ty XD_

_KingElsa:_ _(_ _ﾉ_ _´_ _ヮ_ _`)_ _ﾉ_ _*:_ _･ﾟ_

_KingElsa:_ _°˖_ _✧◝_ _(^_ _♡_ _^)_ _◜✧_ _˖°_

_lukewarm_mess: have you set a date yet?_

_Deltatangofoxtrot: nothing firm but we’re hoping for autumn_

_Deltatangofoxtrot: we met on halloween_

_StandardDeviation: You want to get on that right away then_

_lukewarm_mess: yeah definitely, reserve your venue at the very least_

_Deltatangofoxtrot: …_

_lukewarm_mess: my family is in the hospitality business and even in a small town we have scheduling conflicts_

_lukewarm_mess: because people wait til the last minute_

_Deltatangofoxtrot: is it too late to elope_

_lukewarm_mess: waiting drives the price of food and stuff up too because they have to make the suppliers scramble_

_StandardDeviation: It’s never too late to elope but_

_KingElsa: GASP_

_StandardDeviation: That has to be what you both want_

_KingElsa: NO ELOPING!!!_

_StandardDeviation: My wedding was just a courthouse thing with four people there_

_StandardDeviation: Then we went out to lunch at a nice cafe_

_StandardDeviation: It was what we wanted and it was the best day of my life_

_KingElsa: There should be dancing and cake and laughter_

_KingElsa And champagne!  And wonderful food_

_StandardDeviation: But not everyone is okay with that_

_KingElsa: And everyone should be there to celebrate.  EVERYONE!_

_StandardDeviation: *cough* Exhibit A *cough*_

_Deltatangofoxtrot: i don’t mind having a big thing, i just have no idea how to plan one_

_KingElsa: And my groom had better ransom me properly!_

_lukewarm_mess: whose wedding is this anyway_ _(_ _￢_ ___ _￢_ _)_

_StandardDeviation: Nobody does fox, if the gods wanted us to know how to plan weddings they wouldn’t have given us the internet_

_Deltatangofoxtrot: i spent like two minutes googling and then had to eat a whole pint of cherry garcia_

_KingElsa: !  Is that a proposal, Mess???_

_StandardDeviation: My cousin just had a big event-style wedding, do you want me to ask her for links_

_Deltatangofoxtrot: omg i will be your best friend_

_Deltatangofoxtrot: i will fight ninjas for you_

_Deltatangofoxtrot: and nazis_

_Deltatangofoxtrot: and spiders_

_lukewarm_mess: not if you’re going to be all groomzilla at me, king_

_Deltatangofoxtrot: i will name my firstborn after you_

_StandardDeviation: Stan? >.>_

_lukewarm_mess: what if I want something small_

_Deltatangofoxtrot: or devi if its a girl_

_StandardDeviation: Devi is pretty.  Okay, I approve_

_lukewarm_mess: family only, maybe on the beach_

_KingElsa: A hundred people?_

_StandardDeviation: I’ll PM you when she gets back to me_

_lukewarm_mess: twenty.  MAYBE._

_Deltatangofoxtrot: srsly you are my hero_

_KingElsa: …Per side?_

_lukewarm_mess: in total_

_KingElsa:_ _(_ _｡_ _•́_ _︿_ _•̀_ _｡_ _)_

_KingElsa: You’re breaking my heart._

_Deltatangofoxtrot: STICK TO YOUR GUNS MESS_

_KingElsa: Stay out of this, you… you elopement advocate!  My tender soul lies in pieces at Mess’ feet.  I can’t go on._

_StandardDeviation: Oh lord_

_KingElsa: Bury me in silk and seed pearls!_

_KingElsa: Scatter rose petals and string quartets on my grave!_

_StandardDeviation: *facepalms at the sheer extra*_

_lukewarm_mess: we can have our dogs be ring bearers though_

_KingElsa: G A S P_

_KingElsa: *clasps hands together*_

_KingElsa: You do love me!_

_Deltatangofoxtrot: those two deserve eachother_

_lukewarm_mess:_ _(⁄ ⁄ >⁄ _ _ω_ _⁄ <⁄ ⁄)_

_StandardDeviation: *nod nod*_

_lukewarm_mess: anyway, back to the travel food thing…_

_lukewarm_mess: does anyone have any suggestions for good places to eat in chicago?_

_StandardDeviation: Summer trip?  Nice_

_lukewarm_mess: autumn trip, actually.  peach and i are making plans to drive out for a weekend_

_Deltatangofoxtrot: superdawg for hot dogs_

_Deltatangofoxtrot: giordanos or pequods for pizza_

_StandardDeviation: I’ve never been, sorry_

_KingElsa: I always make it a point to go to Alinea._

_Deltatangofoxtrot: O.o_

_KingElsa: The chef there is a mad genius._

_Deltatangofoxtrot: damn king how much do you think a poor college student can afford_

_lukewarm_mess: oh, is it pricey?_

_Deltatangofoxtrot: does the pope shit in the woods?_

_lukewarm_mess: ?????_

_StandardDeviation: He means yes, mess_

_lukewarm_mess: um.  ok?_

_Deltatangofoxtrot: like really yes_

_KingElsa: Maybe a bit.  It’s worth every penny, though._

_lukewarm_mess: wait_

_lukewarm_mess: does that mean he does though?_

_KingElsa: I… also don’t understand that phrase._

_lukewarm_mess: i mean why would he go outside when he lives in a palace or something_

_lukewarm_mess: doesn’t make any sense_

_StandardDeviation: It’s just a stupid saying, guys_

_StandardDeviation: A mixup of two other stupid sayings.  It was in a movie_

_KingElsa: English is weird._

_lukewarm_mess: *nods* ESL SOLIDARITY_

_iamworthy: Excuse you, AMERICAN English is weird.  PROPER English is normal_

_iamworthy: *goes back to lurking*_

_KingElsa: *fistbumps Mess*_

_lukewarm_mess: AESL SOLIDARITY?_

_iamworthy: Also cheers, fox_

_Deltatangofoxtrot: ty ^^_

_KingElsa: Actually, I’ll be in Illinois myself in October.  I need to make reservations before they get booked up – thanks for reminding me!_

 

Yuuri blinked at the chat window.  What were the chances that he’d be in the same state as King, at the same time?  Not that his Skate America schedule would leave much room for socializing, but… maybe?  If the timing worked out?  If they were close enough to drive?  If he and Phichit left a day or so early, or stayed a bit late?

He tapped out a private message before he could second-guess himself.

 

_/msg KingElsa what dates, if you don’t mind me asking_

_*KingElsa >> 20-27 Oct.  Why?_

 

He sucked in a breath.  The competition was scheduled for the weekend of the twenty-fifth.  Their visits would absolutely overlap.  And if KingElsa was talking about making reservations at a Chicago restaurant, he must surely be staying in the general area of the city, right?

 

/msg KingElsa that’s when we’re planning on being there

 

 _Do you want to meet up somewhere_ , Yuuri didn’t type.  _Wow what a crazy coincidence_ , was keyed and deleted.  _Do you like me, because I think I might like you and Phichit even agrees because he stopped giving me a hard time about you and he only stops teasing when he doesn’t want to scare me off of something_ … yeah, no.  All the no.  Nope, even.  _Hell_ nope.

Yuuri realized that he had been staring into space for over a minute.  It was too long a pause.  Whatever he said was going to be weird and awkward now.  Just like Yuuri was weird and awkward.  The little blinking cursor was mocking him.  King hadn’t replied yet, either.  He must be waiting for Yuuri to finish his thought.  Which was a problem because _Yuuri_ was waiting for Yuuri to finish his thought.  His ears were burning, his breaths starting to come shallow and quick.  _Say something!_ he commanded himself in desperation.  _Anything!_

Yuuri closed his eyes, held his breath, and keyboard mashed.

 

_/msg KingElsa do you think you want ot meet for coffe emaybe_

 

And he waited.

KingElsa didn’t reply.

 _Of course he doesn’t want to see you in real life_ , the cruel little voice of his anxiety whispered.  _He’s rich and successful, the top of his field he said.  The restaurants he goes to have actual chefs and menus with no prices listed_.  _He even manages his depression without help.  And who are you?  You’re just a mediocre skater with three prescriptions and a therapist, whose college professor is flunking you for missing too much class.  You’re too jittery, too awkward, too shy, too boring, too everything.  Too_ Yuuri.

His hands were shaking as he typed, his vision starting to blur around the edges as he hit the enter key, but he wasn’t so far into his head yet that he didn’t notice the _two_ new lines displayed on the screen.

 

_*KingElsa >> I’m sorry but I really don’t think I’ll be able to_

_*lukewarm_mess >> KingElsa:  you know hwat never mind so rry it was a dumb idea im sorry i’pp just go now_

 

Well.  There was really nothing more to be said, was there?

Yuuri slammed the laptop lid closed just as the panic crashed over him like a wave.

 

*            *            *

 

“Don’t look,” Yuuri cautioned Phichit before taking a deep breath and opening his SMS app.  There were a _lot_ of messages from KingElsa.  He’d known that King was texting him; it was why he had shut off his notifications.

“Of course not,” Phichit huffed in mock offense.  He had already stuffed his earbuds into his ears and pulled up something to watch on YouTube, but he continued his slow petting of Yuuri’s hair.  He really was the best friend ever.

Yuuri deliberately didn’t read the flood of texts that he’d received over the last few days.  At best they’d be super nice and he’d feel even worse about ignoring them.  At worst…

Even Yuuri’s broken brain had a hard time believing that KingElsa needed _seventy six individual text messages_ just to tell him to go fuck himself.

But what to write?  Sorry I’m a human trash fire but you knew that when you met me, unless you didn’t actually believe me at the time, in which case: surprise!?  No.  That sounded like he was fishing for reassurance, and Yuuri wanted things with King to go back to what they had been before, not force the man to be kind to him out of obligation.  It was best to just keep things short and honest.

 

_hi_

_I know it’s super late in Europe so you’re probably asleep_

_but I wanted to say I’m sorry for freaking out at you_

 

It was odd how tapping out three little sentences could make him feel so much better.  Yuuri had built the situation up in his head until it was a towering monster of guilt and fear and then he hid from it, even though he knew from long experience that running away could only feed that particular type of beast and make it stronger.  It wasn’t slain yet – wouldn’t be until after King saw his messages and they were able to talk, probably tomorrow – but just facing it was the hard part.

“It’s getting late,” he told Phichit, raising his voice slightly to be heard over whatever his friend was watching.  “We should probably call Uber Mike to come get us, maybe get some dinner?”

“Dinner with Uber Mike?” Phichit was back to teasing him, and all was right with the world.  “I didn’t realize you two had hit it off so well!”

“Funny.  You know what I—”  A new word bubble appeared on the screen.

 

_Mess!!_

<3 <3 <3

_I missed you!_

 

Phichit rolled his eyes fondly at Yuuri’s expression and went back to his video.

 

_I’m so sorry_

_I missed you too_

_You don’t need to apologize._

_I just got really nervous_

_about asking you to meet irl_

_it’s totally okay if you don’t want to_

_I did!_

_I mean, I do._

_It’s just… complicated?_

_I understand complicated_

_My time is pretty booked while I’m in the US_

_Even when I’m free I’m already going out with a bunch of people_

_and I know you don’t do crowds._

_well I feel dumb_

_If/when we do meet I want you to feel comfortable!_

_Don’t feel dumb._

_I just can’t help thinking that there’s no way someone like you could be interested_

_in someone like me_

_You are many things, but you have never been dumb!_

_many things like…_

_a mess?_

_The lukewarmest of messes! <3_

_I had to look that word up when we met, you know._

_Your English is better than mine._

_And I never went to university at all, much less had a double major!_

_So you’re super smart and hardworking._

_And you can dance better than me._

_you’ve never seen me dance_

_Whose fault is that, I wonder._

_it’s embarrassing_

_I don’t want you to think badly of me_

_Solnyshko.  That is NEVER going to happen._

_I know. I do_

_I just_

_wait what does that word mean_

_It means sunshine.  Because that’s what you are._

_if you say so_

_I do say so!_

_But…_

_but?_

 

Ah, and there it was.  The ‘but’.  The pet name was so sweet – and Yuuri had never been given a nickname before – but King was just using it to cushion a blow.  He had always been so kind and thoughtful that way.

The dreaded ellipsis kept appearing and disappearing below Yuuri’s last comment.  King must be struggling for words.

 

_To tell the honest truth, I’m also kind of scared to meet face-to-face._

 

Yuuri let out the breath he’d been holding.  Was _that_ all? 

 

_that makes total sense_

_I could be an axe murderer_

_No!  I trust you._

_I trust you and I do want to meet you one day._

_And see you dance!_

_I just…_

 

More ellipses.  A longer pause.

 

_I don’t want things to change between us._

_And I’m terrified that they will._

_Even if you don’t see me any differently other people will want a piece of you_

_And I’m selfish, Mess_

_I want to keep you to myself for as long as I can_

 

Yuuri blinked.  Who _was_ this man?

 

_Are you an idol?_

_A movie star?_

_Haha no, nothing like that_

_But I do model, among other things_

_It’s a rather public lifestyle_

_I understand_

 

Of course he did.  Even a dime-a-dozen skater had to deal with publicity when competing on the international stage.  Public interviews and sponsorships were all part of the package.  Yuuri had even featured in a few magazine ads of his own, including one very embarrassing Calvin Klein ad in which he’d worn a pair of jeans so tight they might as well have been painted on.  Nothing else; just jeans and a smile.  The thought of what King – or anyone! – might think of him if _that_ was their reference…

He shuddered in sympathy.

 

_let’s make a deal then_

_you be king and I’ll be mess_

_no expectations_

_no judgment_

_just us_

_No dance videos??_

_no_

_well_

:/

_maybe someday_

_Nobody’s ever asked me to just be me before, you know_

_I’ll probably be awful at it_

_you seem to be doing just fine to me_

^^

 

“Whoops, our ride’s here!”  Phichit was apologetic, but Yuuri smiled at him as he rolled off the blanket so that it could be folded and stowed in the now-empty cooler.

 

_I have to go, uber is here.  ttyl?_

_Of course.  I'll be here!_

 

Sparing a last fond glance at his phone, Yuuri blacked the screen with his thumb and slid the device into his pocket.  He and Phichit kept a companionable silence as they walked back through the empty park to go meet their driver – Uber Christina this time – and head home.

If Yuuri had remembered to turn his notifications back on, he would have seen King’s final two texts well before dinner, before Mario Kart, before toothpaste and pajamas and goodnight hugs.  It was just as well.  The sharp intake of breath, the hands covering his mouth, the tears prickling his eyes; these were private things, and not to be shared with strangers or even beloved friends.

 

_You’re one of my reasons, you know._

_Good night, solnyshko._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy fuck this chapter was a ride and a half. I spent all last week horribly blocked, struggling to get out a few dozen words a day. Then today I started the chat segment and... yeah.
> 
> Someone please tell me that method writing isn't a thing. And in the case that method writing is actually a thing, tell me that method writing SHOULDN'T be a thing. And I definitely shouldn't do it. Working myself up so that I can describe the physical symptoms of anxiety because I am actually experiencing them is a BAD PLAN. THERE ARE TWO TYPES OF BAD PLAN, SELF. ONE THAT ENDS IN LOSING MY HAT, AND ONE THAT ENDS IN ACTUAL LITERAL PANIC. DO NOT ENGAGE IN BAD PLANS.
> 
> Speaking of bad plans, I have an account over at fanfiction.net and I tend to mirror my stories over there (after a while and with much swearing, because while I have a great deal of nostalgia over ff.net having been my first fanfic fix I can't navigate that fucking interface to save my own life).
> 
> I forgot that chatfics aren't allowed.
> 
> I have apparently come to the attention of CriticsUnited.
> 
> You know, if I got a notification from the mods at the site, I'd take down my story without complaint. Eyerolling, sure, because what pretension to judge what is and is not quality art based on the format, but I'd be a good sport about it. If my story got taken down because someone else complained to the mods and the mods yanked it? Yeah, okay. Fair is fair. If I'd remembered, I wouldn't have posted the story there in the first place.
> 
> But this bullshit, vigilante, concern-troll "no don't you see, we're just trying to improve your writing and if you don't comply with our deman-- I mean polite request, then we'll be forced to do everything in our power to get your account yanked oh and we also have an entire team of winged monkeys ready and willing to harass you into submission?"
> 
> FUCK. THAT.
> 
> I was taught never to start a fight, but by the love of small fluffy kittens I will finish this one. I do not bow to bullies. Not one inch. The goddamn story stays up until it gets taken down by force.
> 
> Thanks again for reading. I love you all, as evidenced by my staying at work three hours past quitting time to get this chapter out. Now I'm really hungry, so tonight's reason is dinner. I'm thinking White Castle?
> 
> Comments make me squee so loud that Vienna's ears go flat and who doesn't love a flat-eared autumn cat?


	6. October, 2014

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bonus chapter! Phichit meets Christophe Giacommetti at Skate America.
> 
> (Chapter count has updated)

“My love for you could move mountains and the hearts of ISU judges,” Phichit murmured.  His tone was saccharine, his accent thick and atrocious to the point of being borderline offensive.

“Ah, but I have loved you since the moment that I saw you, when I was but a child,” he replied passionately.  The ridiculous accent was gone, his tone higher and breathy, but the words were no less coated in syrup.  “I’m a man now.”

“I will prove my adoration by shouting it from the rooftops!”  He clasped his hands together over his heart.

“I’ll make you super-cute bentos every day with rice balls in the shape of figure skates and poodles!”  He pressed the back of one hand against his forehead and cast his eyes dramatically skyward.

“What _are_ you doing, _mon petit_?”  That was all the warning Phichit was afforded before two hundred pounds of weaponized flirtation draped itself over his shoulders.

Phichit craned his head back to meet Christophe Giacometti’s amused, upside-down features.  “I’m spectating the pairs short program, in a spirit of solidarity and good sportsmanship?” he offered guilelessly.  Christophe quirked an eyebrow at him, and he grinned back.  “And I may also be shipping our respective besties for my own personal amusement.”

Christophe shifted his gaze down to where Phichit had been looking a moment ago.  “Ah,” he said after a moment.  The French representatives on the ice were skating a solid but unremarkable program to something from _Carmen_.  Yuuri Katsuki was ostensibly watching from a seat in the front row, but was far more engrossed in his phone than in synchronized double axels or footwork.  Half curled up in his chair, comfortable as only someone who was intimately familiar with stadium seating could manage, Yuuri’s posture was all college student with no classically trained dancer to be found.  And two rows directly behind the oblivious Yuuri, Victor Nikiforov sat like a king observing his kingdom.  Which, to be fair, he pretty much was.  His spine was straight, his head tilted just enough to display a thoughtful, television-ready smile.  And although his own phone was resting in his lap, out of sight to the casual observer or rogue audience-cam, his fingers were flying over the virtual keyboard.  “They do rather look as though they’re conversing, don’t they?”

They really did.  Yuuri would type, and a text balloon would appear on Victor’s screen shortly after.  A mischievous expression ghosted across the champion’s face, and suddenly Yuuri was cramming a fist in his mouth to stifle giggles.  It was endearing.  It was perfect.

It was a total coincidence, of course.

“Sadly for your no doubt extensive imaginary wedding plans, I know all too well the identity of Victor’s current _amour_.”

Phichit shrugged.  “And I know Yuuri’s.  That’s not going to stop me from having fun with a situation.  Besides, you can’t tell me those two wouldn’t look stunning in black and white.”

“Perhaps.”  Christophe’s tone turned teasing.  “But what of you, _mon petit_?  This is your second year of seniors, and we’ve barely spoken.  Are you as bashful as our darling _pain au cannelle_ , or must I take offense?”

“I’m not shy.”  Anyone who so much as glanced at Phichit’s Insta feed would be well aware of _that_.  “But I was underage until recently, and my coach had me on a tight leash.  I hate to be the one who has to break this to you, but you, sir, have a bit of a reputation.”

A velvet chuckle tickled his ear.  “Nothing good, I hope?”

Now it was Phichit’s turn to laugh quietly.  “I’m sure that Miss Manners wouldn’t approve, but I hear you’re easy, fun, and honest.  You respect a hard ‘no’ and listen carefully for soft ones.  Your list of rumored partners is as long as a certain living legend’s, but backed by more evidence, and yet you don’t seem to have left a string of broken hearts in your wake.  In short, _Monsieur Giacometti_ ,” he softened his voice until it matched Christophe’s purr, “you seem like a gentleman who I would very much like to get to know.”

Christophe looked surprised and pleased.  “You should work in intelligence, _mon petit_.”

Without missing a beat, Phichit shot back, “And who’s to say that I don’t?”

Christophe was grinning in open delight now.  “Now we simply must get better acquainted,” he said.

“Yuuri and I haven’t decided on dinner yet.”  He hoped that Yuuri wouldn’t be too upset that Phichit was making plans without consulting him, but one additional person shouldn’t be too stressful after the short program skate.  And Yuuri did like Chris.

“Alas,” and Christophe really did seem disappointed, “I have reservations with Victor tonight.  I’d love to invite you along, but our seating is for two and I’m told that the waiting list is really rather extensive.”

“Plus we’d be scraping bits of Japan’s Ace off the ceiling after he spontaneously combusted.”  Phichit knew that Christophe had offered to introduce Yuuri to Victor in the past.  Such attempts had gone over... poorly.

“That, too.”  He shook his head.  “It really is a pity you can’t join us.  In Victor’s words, the _chef de cuisine_ is a ‘mad genius’.  I’m quite looking forward to tasting his art.”

Phichit went still.  _No_.  Yes?  That phrasing.  The coincidence in timing.  The refusal of a certain chatroom dweller to let slip so much as a picture of his dog when talking – evasively – about his personal life.  The frequent travel, so much of it coinciding with skating events.  The so-interactive-seeming dual text messaging that was _still going on_ not fifty feet below where he and Chris were standing.  “Oh?” he kept his tone playful, interested.  “What’s it called?  I’m always up for new experiences, and Chicago’s not too far for an off-season road trip.”

Chris pursed his lips, apparently detecting something different in Phichit’s manner, but not sure what to make of the change.  “Alinea, I believe.”

Holy _fuck_.

It wasn’t certain.  Hell, it wasn’t _probable_.  That this was a complicated series of misunderstandings and coincidences orchestrated by a universe that was deliberately, _maliciously_ , out to break Thailand’s Sweetheart Phichit Chulanont’s brain made a whole lot more sense than… what?  Yuuri Katsuki somehow spending every waking non-skating moment unknowingly flirting with his own personal lord and savior, the god of ice skating himself, Victor Fucking Nikiforov?  Who he’d met in a random IRC channel for mental health support?  And wait, did that mean that _Victor Nikiforov_ was suffering from _depression_?  How?  _Since_ _when_?

On autopilot while his entire worldview was rebooting, Phichit thanked Christophe pleasantly for the information and wished him and Victor an enjoyable evening.  They swapped numbers, and he followed Chris' Instagram.  He floated the idea of getting together Monday morning for brunch.  He even engaged in a bit of good-natured trash talking for the upcoming men’s short program.  And all the while, the same two thoughts were circling endlessly in his head.

_How can I tell him?_

_How can I_ not _tell him?_

If Phichit informed Yuuri that his best non-amazing-hamster-dad friend KingElsa was actually Victor Nikiforov – after doing an actual metric fuckton of sleuthing beforehand, because he’d be damned if he would even hint at such a thing without being at least a hundred and twenty percent _sure_ – Yuuri would…

Assuming that Yuuri even believed him in the first place?  He’d run.  He’d swear Phichit to secrecy, delete his chat client, and vanish completely from the internet without another word or thought.  Which, Victor (!!!) aside, would be terrible for him.  The #TCF regulars had stopped being merely an anonymous support group for Yuuri years ago, and not only would it be impossible for him to replace them, he wouldn’t even try.  He’d be throwing away part of the backbone of his emotional stability.

Or would he?  Yuuri had come so far in the four years since he and Phichit had met.  He was so much stronger.  Maybe he’d be able to get past the shock when he realized that the pun-loving goofball that he livetweeted terrible American television with was so much more and less than the legend on his posters.  Maybe it could be the beginning of something magical.  Maybe—

“Hey, Yuu-chan!  Smiiiiile!” Holding his phone up as though taking a picture, Phichit watched Yuuri straighten in his seat and turn to face him.  He saw the instant when his best friend took note of the man just two rows behind him, turned instantly scarlet, and practically teleported himself under his seat in his effort to hide himself from Victor’s sight.

_Maybe someday, but not today.  Oh, Yuuri._

“That was cruel, _mon petit_.”  Christophe was equal parts amused and chiding.

“Our love is strong and pure and he’ll forgive me with the application of enough chocolate,” Phichit chirped, unrepentant.

 _Because what I’m about to do is going to be so much crueler_.

_But I honestly can’t think of another way to be kind._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel personally attacked by this chapter. It was never supposed to exist. Chapter six was supposed to take place in early 2015. But then I just had to put Victuuri in the same place at the same time. And I couldn't not have fun with it. But how to add a chapter without messing up my carefully orchestrated POV-order?
> 
> Phichit volunteered. Because of course he did.
> 
> It was just going to be fluff! An extended version of his pretend Victuuri dialogue from the beginning of the chapter. A couple hundred words, some cotton candy and silliness. A bit of a tease. Then Christophe swanned in, _as he does_ , and suddenly there were _revelations_ and _feelings_ and _consequences_ , and I am so ridiculously violated right now you have no idea.
> 
> Who's writing this damn thing, anyway?


	7. February 2015

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Victor goes to Switzerland for Chris' birthday. Nothing goes as planned.
> 
>  
> 
> Thanks to Alloragamer and her mom for doublechecking Google Translate's French.
> 
> The fic is always unbeta'd but this is less edited than usual. If you see any (non-chat) typos or other errors, please feel free to point them out to me so that I can correct them!

“Hair of the dog, _mon ange_?”  Lounging on the bed nude, relaxed, and disgustingly unhungover, Christophe tipped an open bottle of Grey Goose toward Victor.  The store name on the price sticker was written in Cyrillic, and was quite familiar.

“You went through my luggage?”  Mock outrage would not have been possible before the painkillers, water, and hot shower.  It would probably have been more convincing after two or three cups of tea.  “I brought that for your birthday.”

Chris smiled sweetly, showing off his dimples.  “And today it _is_ my birthday.  What a wonderful surprise; I’m touched by your thoughtfulness.”

Victor shook his head, unable to contain a fond chuckle at his friend’s antics.  “This is why I don’t wrap your gifts,” he said.  “It would be a pointless gesture.”

“If you did, the customs officials would only make you unwrap them again at the airport,” Chris pointed out. 

“True enough.  What time is it?”

Christophe checked his phone.  “We’ve more than enough time for breakfast before the men’s free.”

“Wonderful.” Hopefully a full stomach would chase away the remaining aftereffects of the prior evening.  Chris had insisted on dragging Victor out on an impromptu club crawl of every gay hotspot in Bern.  It was fun for as long as they were together, but the crowd on the dance floor invariably separated them, and whether he was recognized or not, Victor was never left unpartnered for long.  Dancing led to grinding, and then to drink offers that were far less awkward to accept than to turn down.  Next was more dancing if he was lucky, and shouted pick-up lines and attempts at small talk if he wasn’t.  Chris eventually appeared to rescue him, but not before the Sharpies materialized.  By the end of the night, Victor had been covered in scribbled names and phone numbers, not one of which he could match with a face if he cared enough to try.  The marker had scrubbed away in the shower with the aid of some hand sanitizer.  The three different colors of glitter turning his skin into a teenage vampire fantasy were more stubborn.  “Shall I make you some birthday blini?”

Chris appeared to consider the idea.  “Why not?” he decided finally.  “I’ve been wanting to remodel my kitchen, and you burning it down will give me the excuse that I need.”

Victor gasped as Christophe’s lips twisted into a smirk.  “That happened _once_!” he protested hotly.  “More than three years ago!  I’ll have you know that I’ve improved since then.”

“Like a fine wine, darling, but whatever does that have to do with your cooking?”

In the end, Chris was the one to make the pancakes, preferring the texture of true crepes to the egginess of blini.  His honor on the line, Victor produced both a cream cheese sauce and a berry reduction for toppings.  The mimosas were a joint effort, Christophe declaring that they paired far better with sweet crepes than Bloody Marys did, the latter made with natal day vodka or no.  Settling into the comfort of Chris’ leather sofa, the two men solemnly clinked their champagne flutes together in a silent toast.

“ _Mon dieu_ , you _have_ improved.”  Having dipped the tip of a spoon into one of the serving bowls for a taste, Chris was now enthusiastically dolloping both red and white sauces onto his plate.  “To what do we owe this miracle?”  His face turned thoughtful.  “Or, should I say, to _whom_?”

Victor flushed.  “You know I’ve been watching a lot of American television lately,” he began evasively.

“Entirely on your own initiative, of course.” Chris wasn’t having any of it.  He’d been teasing Victor about Lukewarm Mess a lot over the past year, ever since noticing that Victor suddenly seemed to be glued to his phone whenever they met at competitions.  He had jumped to entirely the wrong conclusion, labeling Mess and Victor’s correspondence a long-distance romance instead of the comfortable friendship that it actually was.  Of course, if Victor had told Chris the nature of the chat channel, rather than letting him form his own assumptions…

No.  There were things that Victor couldn’t say out loud, not even to his closest friend.  He didn’t think that he could face the disappointment in Christophe’s eyes – or, worse, the sympathy.

He sighed in defeat.  “All right.  My _friend_ Mess and I,” he emphasized the word, “have been watching an instructional cooking show called _Good Eats_ together.  His parents run a bed-and-breakfast,” or something like one; Mess had always been rather vague on the subject of his family business.  And his family in general.  Having no taste for hypocrisy, and holding personal secrets of his own, Victor never pressed,  “and he started helping in the kitchen when he was five.”

“Ah.  So when he learned that you actually _eat_ those revolting nutri-meals the sports dietitians try to inflict on us…”

“He was shocked and appalled and took immediate responsibility for remedying the situation, yes.”  Victor smiled at the memory.  There had been exclamation points.  The phrase ‘Purina Human Chow’, accompanied by a slew of kaomojis.  And descriptions of various meals that Mess and his roommate liked to cook _,_ so loving that they had verged on pornographic.

“And the result?”

He shrugged.  “I’ve started making real food for myself on rest days, sometimes.  I don’t think I’ll ever enjoy cooking enough to want to do it after a full day of practice, and I’m not exactly creative in the kitchen, but I can follow a recipe just fine.  Yuri says that my stroganoff isn’t completely disgusting, which is high praise coming from him.”

Christophe’s eyes were comically wide.  “Marry that man,” he breathed.  “Marry him quickly, before he escapes.”

“We live on opposite sides of the world.  We’ve never even met.”  The opportunity had been there a few months ago, and not only had Victor well and truly blown it, he’d nearly destroyed his and Mess’ friendship in the process.  But Chris didn’t need to know any of that, either. 

“All the better.  Ensnare him before he knows what he’s getting into.”

Victor was saved from further prodding into his nonexistent love life by his phone alarm, alerting them to the beginning of the men’s singles coverage.  Chris turned on the TV, and the familiar sight of Mokdong Ice Rink illuminated the screen.  A pair of commentators preened for the camera as they discussed the history of the Four Continents Championship and the year’s host city, Seoul.  In the background, the first group of skaters was warming up.

The woman promised a ‘hot time on the ice’, which prompted her male counterpart to chuckle as though she’d said something both witty and original.  Victor winced.  “Isn’t there a raw feed we could watch instead?” he asked plaintively.

“Not for a competition that Switzerland isn’t invited to,” Chris said.  “Besides, Florian and Sarah really are quite knowledgeable once the actual skating starts.”  Now the announcers were trading cold weather puns back and forth.  Victor had first heard every single one of them while he was still in Novices.  “They’re national treasures, really.”

“Then by all means, lock them away in a secret vault under armed guard.”

Chris tsked at him.  “ _Someone’s_ ready for more alcohol.”

By the time the drinks were poured – and, in Victor’s case, immediately slammed back and poured again – the warmups had finished and the skating begun.

Watching others perform was never easy for Victor.  It was impossible to lose himself in another’s program when some part of him was always watching with a champion’s eye, analyzing every edge and gesture.  If _he_ were the one dancing, he’d change the jump composition _so_ , and the choreography _thusly_.  Victor tended to think of that critical little voice as his Inner Yakov, and it had only grown louder and less forgiving over the years.

If he’d hoped that he could manage to silence it given enough vodka, it turned out that he was very much mistaken.

“What the hell was _that_?” he snapped at the screen.  The current skater was part of the second group, or was it the third?  The half-empty glass in front of Victor was _definitely_ his fifth.  “That idiot needs to go home and skate nothing but figures until he learns his left from his right.”

At first Chris had been delighted with his friend’s scathing remarks, but as time went on and Victor’s tongue stayed sharp enough to cut, glee faded into something between horror and awe. 

“A fitting tribute to the bombast of Wagner,” Victor declared of another performance.  “Pity he’s actually _trying_ to dance the Sugarplum Fairy.”

Not even the medal contenders were spared.  Hometown favorite Seung-gil Lee’s program earned wondering amazement that technology had advanced far enough to allow robots to compete against humans.  JJ Leroy was branded a little lost hockey player whose goalie probably missed him.

“Unless he is the goalie,” Victor continued, warming to his subject.  “He certainly skates like he’s used to being stuck in a ten-foot box for hours on end.”

A dark-haired figure in blue took position.  “Disney called; they want Prince Charming’s wardrobe back,” Victor sneered.  But then the music started, melancholy synthed-harpsichord and violin, joined by the breathy velvet of Freddie Mercury’s vocals.  The man – Yuuri Katsuki -- started to dance.  And Victor found his mouth snapping shut.

It was far from perfect.  The jump composition was unambitious – _safe_ , Inner Yakov whispered snidely – and even then Katsuki was struggling with his landings.  But his spins and transitions were solid, and his footwork was… exquisite.  _Better than mine_ , Victor thought, and for once Inner Yakov didn’t disagree.  But all of that was background noise.  Katsuki’s musicality had always been his greatest strength; when he moved, he appeared to shape the music rather than allowing it to direct his body.   This skate was no different.  Or rather, it _was_ different, because Victor couldn’t recall ever seeing him dance a conversation before.

 _Who wants to live forever_ , the music asked.  _Do I?_   Katsuki’s body wondered in return.  _Should I?_   Why _should I?_  

_Give me a reason to want to._

Neither Freddie nor Katsuki seemed to have an answer to that.

His eyes were stinging.  When was the last time that Victor had thought, really _thought_ about his own reasons?  He’d made it a daily habit, just as Mess had suggested so long ago, until the process was as automatic as the rest of his morning routine.  Wake up, brush teeth, apply face mask, walk Makkachin, come up with some sort of motivation to keep putting one foot in front of the other for another day, go home and get ready to skate.  What had his reason even _been_ that morning?  _Oh.  Right.  Watching Four Continents with Chris.  And how’s that working out for me?  Drunk, in a foul mood, and getting looks from Chris like he’s worried I’m about to go for his throat._

What a way to celebrate his best friend’s birthday.

Despairing.  Lost.  On the edge of surrender, the song had one final, hesitant, suggestion.  Love.  What about _loving_ forever?

A heart-wrenching pause, the words either too late or not enough to reach the despondent skater.  But then Katsuki’s head snapped up, and he exploded into motion.  Twizzles, spins, a three-jump combo that nobody had any business attempting so late in a program, but nailed with textbook precision and a resolve so fierce that it burned.  Suddenly, after all of his searching, Katsuki had his answer.  His reason.  His forever.  The music – and performance -- ended in triumph, two hands clutched against a heaving chest, newfound love held fast to his heart.

 _I wish someone would skate like that for me_. 

And wasn’t that thought just the most surprising thing?

“Nothing to say, _mon coeur_?” Chris was looking at him curiously.  On the screen, Katsuki took his bows, a broad grin splitting his face.  Someone tossed a plush dog on the ice that looked rather similar to the toy Makkachins that Victor was usually showered with.  The skater collected it on his way to the kiss and cry, where he crushed it against his chest while waiting for his scores.

What _was_ there to say?  That Victor had been struggling to answer that very same question since the moment he’d realized that sleepwalking through life wasn’t normal?  That he’d somehow managed to trade all of his human emotions for gold medals, but couldn’t remember making the bargain?  That the one person he wanted so badly to trust, the one he came closest to unburdening himself completely with, didn’t know Makkachin’s name, or even that she was a poodle?  Because when Lukewarm Mess had asked to see pictures of KingElsa’s baby, as both a friend and fellow dog-lover inevitably _would_ , Victor had panicked?  What kind of pathetic person needed to use their _elderly_ _neighbor’s Samoyed_ as a catfish?  Did it even count as catfishing if he wasn’t actually misrepresenting himself… except, oh wait, he was doing that, too.

When exactly did Victor become as big of a dick as his public persona?

He muttered something in response to Chris, and was immediately asked to repeat it.  “I said his jumps could use some work,” Victor said again, barely louder the second time.  “And I should send his coach my costume designer’s card.  That generic getup didn’t support Katsuki’s performance at all.”

Chris blinked at him, his eyes taking on a contemplative gleam that Victor wasn’t sure he liked.  “Really?  How interesting.”

There were only a handful of skaters left after that.  Once the dust had settled, Cao Bin topped the podium, his famous stoicism giving way to tears when China’s anthem began to play.  To Bin’s right, a young powerhouse from Kazakhstan stood straight and proud, a hero who had been granted his just reward.  And to Bin’s left…

Yuuri Katsuki looked composed at first glance, but his gaze was unfocused and there was color riding high in his cheeks.  A soft, almost disbelieving smile tugged at the corners of his mouth, and one hand kept creeping up to brush his medal with reverent fingers.  And at one point, although the camera was panning away to focus on Bin, Victor could have sworn that he saw the bronze medalist surreptitiously pinch his own forearm.

 _Adorable_.

“See something you like?” Chris purred, and Victor flushed.  Had he honestly just said that out loud?  “I’ve been trying to get you and my darling Yuuri in the same room for simply _ages_ , but the dearest _pain au cannelle_ always refuses me.”

“Really?”  A senior skater who wasn’t frothing at the mouth at the chance to be introduced to Victor Nikiforov?  Now that _was_ interesting.  “Do you know why?”  The likeliest explanation was that Katsuki was uncomfortable with Chris and wanted to limit contact with him.  It was a shame, but very few skaters looked past the over-the-top flirting to see the genuinely good man behind it.  Although, wouldn’t they have to be on at least friendly terms for Chris to extend the offer in the first place?  Chris would never abuse Victor’s trust by acting as a go-between to strangers, and a friendship would certainly explain the English pet names.  Christophe might shower a room full of strangers with French endearments until the words lost all meaning, but he had very few _dearests_ or _darlings_.  So why, then?

Something of Victor’s interest must have shown on his face, because Chris had gone from mischievous to downright predatory.  “Alas, but my sweet Yuuri is shy,” he murmured sadly.  “Do you know how long it took to get him to stop calling me ‘Giacometti-san’?  Most of Juniors, and he never looked up to me the way he does _you_.”

 _Oh_.  It was like being doused in cold water.  _Of course_ there was nothing different about Katsuki; of course he was a fan.  He was simply too timid to act when given an opportunity.  Victor had always known he’d been an influence on the Japanese skater; there had been echoes of his own skating in Katsuki’s performances for as far back as Victor had watched them.  Nothing overt, probably nothing that was ever deliberately inserted, but always present.  Victor should have realized what that would mean before…

 _Before what?  Before I fell for a pair of sad eyes and a routine that I thought was speaking to me?  He’s a performer, no more genuine than I am.  He couldn’t understand how I feel, and if he did he wouldn’t care.  Because he’s_ my fan _, and at best I’m nothing more than a goalpost to him._ At worst?  Victor had read the fanfiction.  He knew what sort of person read it.  _Wrote_ it.

“Well, don’t push the poor boy’s boundaries on my account,” he said with a careless shrug.  “I only thought it was cute to see someone so excited to finish in third.”

Chris blinked at him, nonplussed.  He obviously hadn’t expected such a non-reaction, but when Victor just smiled blandly at him he sighed, and dropped the suggestion.  “Ah well, you know what they say; silver is bitter, wishing it were gold, but bronze is simply happy for a place to stand.”

“Is that how you feel?”  Victor was off-balance.  Off-balance and drunk, that was the only explanation for the too-honest question that spilled from his lips, too soft and raw to be taken as anything other than the plea that it was.  Already rattled, Christophe stared at him in shock, his mouth falling open.  Victor knew with a sinking feeling that it was probably a futile effort, but he forced his mouth to twist into an amused smirk anyway.  “Because I’m afraid I can’t go easy on you simply to spare your feelings.”

Chris clearly didn’t believe a word of it.  “Victor—“  Whatever he was planning on saying next was interrupted by his phone, which loudly declared that it was too sexy for various articles of clothing as it started vibrating across the table.  Chris glanced at the display.  “It’s Josef,” he said, frowning.  “I can—“

“Take it,” Victor was still grinning, not knowing what else to do.  “It’s probably important.”

Another hesitation coupled with a long, searching glance, and Chris thumbed the green icon to accept the call.  Victor looked away, ostensibly to give his friend some privacy.  The fake smile slid off his face like the lie that it was, leaving something blank and empty in its place.  Victor’s French was good, and Josef tended to shout into phones; the coach was calling about a last minute interview request, a magazine article with a photo spread.

Something that might get Victor off the hook, at least for a little while.

“ _Non_ ,” Christophe was shaking his head.  “ _Pas aujourd'hui. Nous fêtons mon anniversaire, et_ —“

“ _Il va le faire_!” Victor called out, loud enough for Josef to hear.   “ _Il va le faire!  Je l'aurai prêt dans vingt minutes_!”

Chris glared at him.  “ _Un moment_ , Josef,” he said into the phone, then slapped his finger over the microphone.  “Victor—“

“It’s a good opportunity,” he said, cutting Chris short.  “You shouldn’t pass up a chance at exposure just because I drank a little too much and got maudlin.”

“You need to brush up on your English.”  His voice was low, upset.  “I believe the word you’re looking for is ‘honest.”

Victor winced.  “Look,” he tried again, “just go—“

“Absolutely n—“

“Please?  I don’t want to wreck this for you.  Besides, I need some time to…“  Sober up.  Muster some defenses.  Run for the consulate.  Or, better yet, the airport.  “…get my head back in order.”

“And we’ll talk when I get back.”  Chris still looked worried, but he’d started considering the idea.  Good.

“Of course.”

Green-gold eyes measured him for a moment longer.  Victor did his best not to shrink from the concern in them.  “Answer me one thing first.”

Was he being too eager?  Not eager enough?  Damn it, Victor couldn’t _think_.  “Anything,” he said.

“When was the last time you were happy?”

His mouth opened.  Closed again.  “I…” he began.  Stopped. 

“Oh, Vitya.”  And then Chris was hugging him.  Warm, strong arms wrapped around him, one hand still holding the muted mobile.  Chris smelled like spiced amber, and maybe it was weak, but Victor’s self-control had drowned itself hours ago.  His pride put up a feeble protest, but the worst had already happened, hadn’t it?  His mask had finally slipped, and someone had seen inside.  He hugged Chris back, burying his face in his shoulder.

“You really want me to leave you like this?” Chris murmured.  Victor nodded without pulling away.  “You’re sure?”

“ _Please_.”  Victor’s voice cracked on the word.  “I just need some space.  Some time.  I just need…”

Christophe’s arms tightened around his shoulders.  “All right, darling,” he said finally, his voice thick.  “All right.”  One last squeeze, and he released Victor to hold the phone against his ear. 

“Josef?  _Pardon_.”  Chris hurried into his bedroom, the door closing behind him.  Victor sank back into the couch and closed his eyes, tucking his knees up under his chin.  He could hear the faint sounds of rushed dressing and Chris’ replies to his coach, and did his best to tune them out.  He felt sick to his stomach.  Exhausted.  Empty.  So very empty.  Was this a panic attack?  It wasn’t anything like Mess’ descriptions, but then Mess always seemed to feel everything, so an excess of emotion made sense for him.  For a hollow person like Victor, maybe this numb sort of dread was as close as he could get. 

What did Mess say that he did when he got lost in his own head?  Victor couldn’t remember.  Counting breaths, maybe?   

 _Can’t hurt, I suppose.  All right.  One… two…_  

Long moments passed, and then there were gentle fingers in his hair.  He opened his eyes. 

“Here.”  Chris was pressing an object into Victor’s hands.  He blinked at it for a second before recognizing it as his laptop.  “I know you want to be by yourself for a while, but don’t be alone.  Talk to your friends.” 

“Chris…”  Victor knew that he should be feeling something.  Gratitude.  Affection.  Shame, even.  And maybe there was a tiny glow of emotion stirring beneath the haze of alcohol and numbness.  It wasn’t enough.  “I… I will.  Thank you.” 

“I am not happy about this.”  Chris was still moving, now clattering around in his kitchen.  He emerged carrying a glass of water and a plate piled high with cheese, fruit, and crackers.  He set them down on the coffee table in front of Victor.  “Eat something while I’m gone.  And drink.” 

Victor eyed the platter.  The cheeses were supposed to be for later, for what should have been a happy evening.  Reminding himself that he was ruining Chris’ birthday hurt, but the pain was better than nothingness.  “I won’t be able to properly appreciate the Bregaglia.”  It was a feeble joke, and neither of them smiled at it. 

“Eat it anyway.” 

“ _Oui, maman_.” 

Chris was fussing over him now, delaying his departure.  “And call if you need me.  For _anything_.” 

“I will.” 

Christophe shook his head.  His smile was sad, and all too knowing.  “No, you won’t,” he said softly. 

“Probably not,” Victor agreed. 

Then there was a brief press of lips against Victor’s forehead, and Chris left. 

The bottles were gone, put away while Victor was lost in his fog.  He didn’t think Chris would go so far as to hide them from him, but it would be humiliating to be proven wrong, so he decided not to check.  The snacks in front of him looked revolting, and the glass full of nothing but water was mocking him. 

 _I should go out_ , he thought.  _Get some air.  Get_ away _…_   He could walk along the Aare, feed the ducks some of those crackers.  Maybe take some selfies under the Child-Eater fountain or do some other touristy thing that he and Chris always joked about but never actually did. 

Or he could go farther.  It wouldn’t be the first time Victor changed flight arrangements on a whim, and it would hardly be the last.  Chris might be upset – _don’t lie to yourself, Vitya.  Chris will be furious_  – but he was responsible.  Responsible, and nowhere near as impulsive as Victor.  He wouldn’t hop on a plane this close to Worlds, and Victor would have time to get his shit together, come up with an excuse— 

His phone chirped an incoming text alert.  It had barely been five minutes since Chris had left; he couldn’t have arrived at the venue yet.  Sure enough, when Victor tapped the notification bar more out of habit than actual curiosity, the photo Christophe had sent him showed an empty leather bucket seat.  Or almost empty.  A very familiar red leather booklet emblazoned with Russia’s double-headed eagle was prominent in the image, resting proudly on top of… 

 _That devious Swiss_ _bastard_. 

There were no emojis that could possibly express the level of outrage that Victor needed for his reply.    

 

 

 

 _MY SHOES??!?!?!?_  

 

 _Bonjour, mon coeur!  How is your online sweetheart?_

 

 _YOU STOLE.  MY SHOES._

 

_And your passport.  I *have* met you before, darling._

_Now be a good boy and stay put, and I’ll see you when I get home._

 

 _I could stretch out your Ferragamos for you…_

 

_And risk blisters this close to Worlds?  Be my guest._

_I’ll buy a new pair or three with my gold medal winnings._     

 

 

 

…Damn it.  Outmaneuvered by an overgrown Alpine moppet _._   If word got out, he would never hear the end of it. Well.  Never let it be said that Victor Nikiforov didn’t know how to cope with defeat.    

 

 

 

 _I hope the camera adds thirty pounds to your ass._    

 

 

 

He sighed, and reached for his laptop.    

 

 

 

 

_* Joined channel #therapycouchfort_

 

_* Topic is ‘Happy Half-Off-Chocolate Day Eve!’_

 

_* Set by SockPuppet on Feb 14 10:39:02 2015_

 

_StandardDeviation: hey king_

_KingElsa: Hello._

_KingElsa: Where is everyone?_

_SockPuppet: Mess is conferencing for business again_

_StandardDeviation: i haven’t seen mess today_

_KingElsa: I don’t just come her e to talk to Lukewarm Mess you know._

_StandardDeviation: of course not_

_SockPuppet: You just keep telling yourself that_

_StandardDeviation: you also come here to talk ABOUT mess._

_KingElsa: …_

_StandardDeviation: it only stings because its true <3_

_* Peaches_and_Dream has joined #therapycouchfort_

_Peaches_and_Dream: Hello, boy and girls!  Isn’t it a lovely day to be alive?_

_StandardDeviation: hey peaches_

_Peaches_and_Dream: (_ _❁_ _´_ _▽_ _`_ _❁_ _)*_ _✲_ _ﾟ_ _*_

_SockPuppet: Someone’s getting laid…_

_* lukewarm_mess has joined #therapycouchfort_

_Peaches_and_Dream: Close, only even better!_

_SockPuppet: What could be better than getting laid?_

_Peaches_and_Dream: Mess_

_Peaches_and_Dream: And_

_Peaches_and_Dream: I_

_lukewarm_mess: peach no_

_Peaches_and_Dream: Received some very prestigious awards tonight!_

_lukewarm_mess: it’s not necessary to tell everyone_

_StandardDeviation: congrats you two_

_SockPuppet: !!! Wtg!_

_lukewarm_mess: nobody even cares outside of our industry_

_lukewarm_mess: pls don’t make a fuss_

_Peaches_and_Dream: Says the man whose numbers were THIRD_

_Peaches_and_Dream: In almost the entire world_

_StandardDeviation: that’s really impressive mess_

_lukewarm_mess: hardly the entire world_

_Peaches_and_Dream: 6/7 of it_

_lukewarm_mess: you’re counting antarctica??_

_SockPuppet: Don’t downplay your achievements, mess_

_SockPuppet: If you were recognized, it was for a reason_

_Peaches_and_Dream: ^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^  *fistbumps Socks*_

_StandardDeviation: what did you win peach_

_Peaches_and_Dream: I came in fifth!  Which isn’t actually an award category or anything but still.  Top five!_

_Peaches_and_Dream: The high scorers had better watch their backs.  I’m coming for them next!_

_StandardDeviation: you sound so competitive lol_

_Peaches_and_Dream:  It’s a competitive field_

_Peaches_and_Dream: Practically an olympic sport, really_

_lukewarm_mess: PEACH_

_lukewarm_mess: can we change the subject now_

_StandardDeviation: *pokes king to see if he’s dead*_

_StandardDeviation: *poke*_

_StandardDeviation: *poke*_

_StandardDevation: *poooooooooooooooooooke*_

_SockPuppet: That’s enough_

_KingElsa: I’m not dead._

_lukewarm_mess: hi king_

_SockPuppet: We were teasing him a little bit and he’s been quiet since.  Sorry if we overstepped, King_

_KingElsa: Hi Mess._

_KingElsa: It’s not you guys._

_lukewarm_mess: bad day?_

_KingElsa: You could say that_

_KingElsa: I accidentally let slip to a friend that I’m…_

_Peaches_and_Dream: …gay?_ (͡ ° ͜ʖ ͡ °)

_KingElsa: :P_

_KingElsa: Not always as happy as I act_

_StandardDeviation: accidentally or “accidentally”_

_*lukewarm_mess >> {{{hugs}}}_

_KingElsa: Definitely unintentional_

_SockPuppet: How did they take it_

_/msg lukewarm_mess: Thanks <3_

_Peaches_and_Dream: I’m sure if it’s a good friend he’s concerned about you_

_KingElsa: he had to go out for a work thing, but he wants to talk when he gets back._

_*lukewarm_mess >> i know you’re upset but i can’t help but think this is a good thing_

_KingElsa: I’d rather run away than face him._

_*lukewarm_mess >> you know how i feel about you not having a rl support base_

_SockPuppet: Running away is a bad idea_

_lukewarm_mess: don’t run away_

_/msg lukewarm_mess: The way he looked at me hurt._

_/msg lukewarm_mess: I don’t want to be pitoeid_

_/msg lukewarm_mess: pitied*_

_*lukewarm_mess >> now i know you’re upset_

_KingElsa:  I…. um.  can’t._

_*lukewarm_mess >> if you’re making typos_

_StandardDeviation: ???_

_/msg lukewarm_mess: Hush, you.  Do you even know what the shift key is for??_

_lukewarm_mess: sure, symbols and emojis  :P_

_KingElsa: He kind of took my shoes and passport with him when he left._

_Peaches_and_Dream: OMFG my kind of friend!_

_StandardDeviation: :O_

_lukewarm_mess: did you have to tell everyone that_

_lukewarm_mess: you’ll give peach ideas_

_SockPuppet: I’m glad you have a friend who cares about you, King_

_Peaches_and_Dream: Because keeping you inside the apartment is always such a problem, Mess  (_ _￢_ ___ _￢_ _)_

_Peaches_and_Dream: King ask your dude if he has any solutions for getting people to come out of their room_

_KingElsa: I wish he cared a little less, to be honest._

_StandardDeviation: really? harsh_

_*lukewarm_mess >> you don’t mean that_

_KingElsa: No… I guess I don’t mean it.  I’m glad he cares.  Mostly._

_KingElsa: I just wish he didn’t have to?_

_StandardDeviation: are you wishing for neurotypicality or not to need other people_

_StandardDeviation: because while we’re at it i wiould like a pony_

_KingElsa: …I’m being an ass, aren’t I_

_lukewarm_mess: no_

_Peaches_and_Dream: A bit_

_KingElsa: …_

_Peaches_and_Dream: Okay, serious talk now so pay attention_

_SockPuppet: This should be good._

_Peaches_and_Dream: You seem to me like one of those people who needs to act untouchable in public.  It’s even in your screen name.  And you’ve mentioned being in a position of high visibility before_

_KingElsa: Yes…_

_Peaches_and_Dream: Where does the line between the public you and private you begin?  And which side of that line does your friend stand on?  Or any of the other people in your life?_

_KingElsa: That’s the problem.  I’m not sure there *is* a line anymore._

_KingElsa: If ther eever was._

_Peaches_and_Dream: So there’s no one in the world you can turn to?  Nobody who can call you out on your bullshit?_

_KingElsa: You seem to be doing a pretty good job of that right now >.>_

_Peaches_and_Dream: I’m on the internet, I don’t count.  Even if I knew who you were irl, we’re not friends.  We’re certainly not close._

_KingElsa: True._

_Peaches_and_Dream: So my question stands._

_KingElsa: My co_

_KingElsa: boss*_

_KingElsa: I guess_

_Peaches_and_Dream: But he’s work, so he’s part of your public life_

_KingElsa: So is Chris._

_KingElsa: My friend, I mean.  I met him through work._

_Peaches_and_Dream: And did the relationship stay there?_

_KingElsa:  No._

_KingElsa: Well.  It’s complicated._

_KingElsa: We’re rivals as well as friends, so…_

_Peaches_and_Dream: Do you think he’d take advantage of you professionally if he thought you were vulnerable?_

_KingElsa: No._

_KingElsa: He’s not like that.  He’s one of the kindest people I’ve ever met._

_Peaches_and_Dream: So he’s someone you feel you can trust?_

_KingElsa: I don’t want to be a bother to him._

_Peaches_and_Dream: That’s not what I asked._

_*lukewarm_mess >> Are you okay with this?_

_KingElsa: …Yes.  I can trust Chris._

_Peaches_and_Dream: But you don’t want to bother him.  Because he’ll stop being your friend if you’re an annoyance to him?_

_KingElsa: I toldy ou he’s not like that!_

_lukewarm_mess: peach, that’s enough_

_Peaches_and_Dream: I believe you.  So why don’t you want to bother Chris with your feelings, then?_

_KingElsa: …_

_KingElsa: Because I don’t’ want him to see me as we3ak_

_SockPuppet: OK TIME OUT PEOPLE_

_KingElsa: I have been on top since I was sixteen yoeuars osld and since I was sixteen I have understoond that if others are oging to look up to me I hvae to be someone that is worhty of being looked up to.  I can’t slip I can’t fall I can’t crack because If i do I will let someone donw.  I can’t show weakness becausew i can’t BE weka._

_SockPuppet: Peach you are overstepping boundaries like woah_

_Peaches_and_Dream: You’re allowed to be human, King_

_SockPuppet: BUT I’m hesitant to bounce you because I think you’re acting out of good intentions_

_KingElsa: says a SALSEMAN who has NO DIEA what I go throu_

_Peaches_and_Dream: You’d be surprised.  We have a lot more in common than you might think_

_SockPuppet: ENOUGH_

_KingElsa: you don’t eve n blong here you aren’t even depressd_

_SockPuppet: THE NEXT PERSON WHO TYPES ANYTHING IS GETTING A THREE DAY KICKBAN_

The stark line of text brought Victor up short.  What was he _doing_?  He was flinging insults at a college student, that was what he was doing.  A college student who had never spoken to him with anything other than kindness, even if it often came paired with a healthy dose of mischief.  One who certainly didn’t need to be treated like an enemy or an obstacle.

_SockPuppet: Take a deep breath and calm down, both of you_

Calm.  He’d _been_ calm.  Or numb, at least.  When did the deadness change into anger?  And _why_?  Because Mess' roommate was right; Peaches was just a name on a screen, no more real or relevant to Victor Nikiforov than someone he passed on the street while walking Makkachin.  Nothing he said – typed! – should be able to affect Victor in the slightest.  Unless…

_*lukewarm_mess >> i’m so sorry_

_*lukewarm_mess >> i don’t know why he’s pushing you like this_

_*lukewarm_mess >> are you okay_

Those three short private messages pulled something like a smile from Victor’s lips.  Trust Mess to obey the letter of the law while doing what he thought was right behind the scenes. 

 

He started tapping out a reply PM to reassure his friend that he was okay.  Stopped.  Decided, for once, to tell the truth.

_/msg lukewarm_mess: no_

_/msg lukewarm_mess: I don’t think that I am okay_

_/msg lukewarm_mess: but I also don’t think that’s entirely Peach’s fault_

_SockPuppet: Now then._

_SockPuppet: Before our safe space devolved into a school playground, I was trying to say that I thought the ideas that Peaches brought up might be worth discussing_

_*lukewarm_mess >> hmm.  in that case…_

_*lukewarm_mess >> i seem to remember telling you about shoving a girl off my lap in a hospital waiting room full of people_

_SockPuppet:  IF King was open to discussing them.  He did not consent to an intervention._

_*lukewarm_mess >> what was it you said to me? _

_SockPuppet: And now there has been bad behavior on both sides._

_/msg lukewarm_mess: …_

_*lukewarm_mess >> _(¬_¬;)

_SockPuppet: So here’s what we’re going to do:_

_/msg lukewarm_mess: okay, okay_

_SockPuppet: KingElsa will decide whether Peaches_and_Dream crossed a line._

_/msg lukewarm_mess: I told you that anxiety is a liar,_

_/msg lukewarm_mess: and that literally nobody with half a brain thinks that your’e weak_

_SockPuppet: If he did, then Peach will get a 3-day ban for being invasive_

_/msg lukewarm_mess: and that it’s okay to accept help when you need it_

_SockPuppet: and King will get a 1-day ban for ad hominem attacks_

_*lukewarm_mess >> so… and i ask this with love… can you take the advice that you dish out?_

_/msg lukewarm_mess: I also distinctly remember telling you that the little cow deserved to be dumped on her ass for tryig to take advangate of a coworker’s injury to put the moves ony ou._

_SockPuppet: OR, and guess which option I prefer, King agrees to forgive your transgression, you both shake virtual hands or give internet hugs or whatever, and either decide to continue the conversation in a controlled and CIVIL manner or change the subject._

_*lukewarm_mess >> not relevant_

_*lukewarm_mess > also she was not trying to put the moves on me_

_SockPuppet: I imagine there are a great number of sportsball games going on that we could be discussing instead_

_/msg lukewarm_mess: I guess I do have at least one person who can call me out on my shit_

_lukewarm_mess: BITE ME_

_SockPuppet: I_

_StandardDeviation: lolwut_

_lukewarm_mess: omg that was supposed to be a pm i’m so sorry_

_/msg lukewarm_mess: To me? D: D: D:_

_*lukewarm_mess >> nonono omg _(/> / ᗣ / </ /)

_Peaches_and_Dream:  I only suggested we could discuss the results of the figure skating championships_

_lukewarm_mess:_ ψ (▼ へ ▼ メ) ~ →  PEACH

_SockPuppet: I CAN STILL KICKBAN YOU ALL_

_SockPuppet: A CHANNEL OF SILENT PERFECTION IS WITHIN MY GRASP_

_SockPuppet: DON’T THINK THAT I WON’T DO IT_

_/msg lukewarm_mess:  Don’t like figure skating?_

_/msg lukewarm_mess:  Or… secret fan??_ (͡ ° ͜ʖ ͡ °)

_*lukewarm_mess >> no changing the subject!_

_/msg lukewarm_mess: spoilsport_

_KingElsa: Um.  Can I have the floor?_

_SockPuppet: You may._

_KingElsa: So, um.  I’m not exactly happy about being blindsided by this convo_

_KingElsa: but but as Socks said I also said some things atha I shouldn’t have_

_KingElsa: And I probably should hae said somethign earlier but I’m actually pretty drunk right now_

_*lukewarm_mess >> omg_

_KingElsa: so it’s an even wo2rse time than usual to try and call me out_

_*lukewarm_mess >> peach just spit out matcha through his nose_

_/msg lukewarm_mess: does it make me a horrible person if i find that a little satisfyring?_

_KingElsa: So if it’s up to me Id’ rather just channel my namesake and let it go_

_*lukewarm_mess >> haha no, i think that’s a healthy reaction to peach_

_Peaches_and_Dream: Oh shit, sorry king.  I would never have jumped on you like that if I’d known you weren’t at 100%_

_SockPuppet: You shouldn’t have “jumped” on him at all. >.>_

_Peaches_and_Dream: yeah no, that’s fair.  Fuck though.  Sorry._

_KingElsa: I’ll… think about hwat you said.  later.  But I will think about i8t_

_Peaches_and_Dream: ^^_

_StandardDeviation: hey socks, would you feel better if you kicked us all?_

_lukewarm_mess: ??_

_SockPuppet: You… have my attention._

_StandardDeviation: and then we can all come back and start over fresh_

_Peaches_and_Dream: I… don’t actually hate that idea_

_KingElsa: I’ve been kicked out of finer establishements than this one *sniffs*_

_SockPuppet: This pleases me.  Okay, then.  Take five, children.  Eat or go look out a window or something._

_*Disconnected from #therapycouchfort (Quit: Kicked by SockPuppet)_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! So, uh, I aten't dead?
> 
> It's been... um... a month and a half since my last update. In that time I wrote FOUR first drafts of this chapter, acquired a Nendoroid addiction, attended a week-long tech conference in California, and said goodbye to my Grandma Helen, who died in her sleep following a massive stroke at the age of 92. Plus the normal day-to-day life stuff. So please forgive my update lag. I can't promise it won't happen again, particularly with the holidays approaching, but I'll do my best to go back to something like a regular schedule.
> 
> So. Four first drafts. I didn't have a firm plan for the chapter to start. I knew it was going to take place over Valentine's Day/Chris' Birthday/4CCs. I wanted to have a cute Chris-and-Victor friendship piece to mirror the lilac picnic. And that's where it fell apart, because as I realized somewhere in the middle of Draft 3, Chris cannot possibly fill the same role in Victor's life that Phichit does for Yuuri, because Victor does not confide in Chris. VICTOR NIKIFOROV (TM) doesn't confide in _anybody_. Delete Draft 3, start Draft 4. Which you hopefully just read. And I'm kind of in the awkward position of both liking and being proud of it and having ABSOLUTELY NO CLUE if it's any good or not. Because I just want to MOVE ON ALREADY. So. Um. Sorry if it sucked. I don't think it does, but if you tell me that it's actually just 19 pages of BORK BORK BORK BORK on every line I will probably believe you.
> 
> Next chapter will be another Phichit Bonus Chapter, which means probably all prose and no chat again. And the chapter count will be updated.
> 
> Today my reason is _Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries_ , which is a show about a young Australian heiress in the 1920's who is both financially and sexually liberated, and who decides that she wants to become a Lady Detective. She is aided in her endeavors by her best friend, her housemaid, a pair of loveable cab drivers who are also Communist agitators, and Inspector General Eyefuck. This show is an utter delight, and I recommend it to anyone who likes banter, badassery, and awesome women doing awesome things.


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